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THE WORKS 



¥ASHIIGTOI IRTIIG. 



NEW EDITION, REVISED. 



VOL. XL 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



NEW- YORK: 
GEORGE P. PUTNAM, 

1850. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH: 



A BIOGRAPHY. 



WASHINGTON IKVINa. 



NEW-YORK : 

GEORGE P. PUTNAM, 155 BROADWAY. 

LONDON: JOHN MURRAY. 

1850. 



t^l. 



\ 



i« 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by 

Washington Ikving, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District 
of New-York. 



John F. Trow, 

Printer and Stereotyper, 

49 Ann-street, New- York. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



Birth and parentage. — Characteristics of the Goldsmith race. — Poetical birth- 
place. — Goblin house. — Scenes of boyhood. — Lissoy. — Picture of a country 
parson. — Goldsmith's schoolmistress. — Byrne, the village schoolmaster. — 
Goldsmith's hornpipe and epigram. — Uncle Contarine. — School studies and 
school sports. — Mistakes of a night, . . . . .17 

CHAPTER II. 

Improvident marriages m the Goldsmith family. — Goldsmith at the university. — 
Situation of a sizer. — Tyranny of Wilder, the tutor. — Pecuniary straits. — 
Street ballads. — College riot. — Gallows Walsh. — College prize. — A dance 
interrupted, . . . . . . • .30 

CHAPTER III. 

Goldsmith rejected by the bishop. — Second sally to see the world. — Takes 
passage for America. — Ship sails without him. — Return on Fiddle-back. — 
A hospitable friend. — The counsellor, . . . .45 

CHAPTER IV. 

Sallies forth as a law student. — Stumbles at the outset. — Cousin Jane and the 
valentine. — A family oracle. — Sallies forth as a student of medicine.— 



vi CONTENTS. 

Hocus-pocus of a boarding-house. — Transformations of a leg of mutton.— 
The mock ghost. — Sketches of Scotland. — Trials of Toryism. — A poet's 
purse for a Continental tour, . . . . . .53 

CHAPTER V. 

The agreeable fellow-passengers. — Risks from friends picked up by the way- 
side. — Sketches of Holland and the Dutch. — Shifts while a poor student at 
Leyden. — The tulip speculation. — The provident flute. — Sojourn at Paris. — 
Sketch of Voltaire. — Travelluig shifts of a philosophic vagabond, . 66 

CHAPTER VI. 

Landing in England. — Shifts of a man without money. — The pestle and 
mortar. — Theatricals in a barn. — Launch upon London. — A city night 
scene. — Struggles with penury. — Miseries of a tutor. — A doctor in the 
suburb. — Poor practice and second-hand finery. — A tragedy in embryo. — 
Project of the written inountains, . . . . .77 

CHAPTER Vn. 

Life of a pedagogue. — Kindness to schoolboys — pertness in return. — Expensive 
charities. — The Griffiths and the " Monthly Review." — Toils of a literary 
hack. — Rupture with the Griffiths, . . . . .84 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Newbery, of picture-book memory. — How to keep up appearances. — Miseries 
of authorship. — A poor relation. — Letter to Hodson, . . 89 

CHAPTER IX. 

Hackney authorship. — Thoughts of literary suicide. — Return to Peckham. — 
Oriental projects. — Literary enterprise to raise funds. — Letter to Edward 
Wells — to Robert Bryanton. — Death of uncle Contarme. — Letter to cousin 
Jancj . . . . . . . .97 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER X. 

Oriental appointment — and disappointment. — Examination at the College of 
Surgeons. — How to procure a suit of clothes. — Fresh disappointment. — A 
tale of distress. — The suit of clothes in pawn. — Punishment for doing an 
act of charity. — Gayeties of Green- Arbor Court. — Letter to his brother. — 
Life of Voltaire. — Scroggins, an attempt at mock heroic poetry, . 107 



CHAPTER XL 

Publication of " The Inquiry." — Attacked by Griffiths' Review. — Kenrick, the 
literary Ishmaelite. — Periodical literature. — Goldsmith's essays. — Garrick 
as a manager. — Smollett and his schemes. — Change of lodgings. — The 
Robin Hood club, . . . . . . .124 

CHAPTER Xn. 

New lodgings.— Visits of ceremony. — Hangers-on. — Pilkington and the white 
mouse. — Introduction to Dr. Johnson. — Davies and his bookshop. — Pretty 
Mrs. Davies. — Foote and his projects. — Criticism of the cudgel, . 132 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Oriental projects. — Literary jobs. — The Cherokee chiefs. — Merry Islington 
and the White Conduit House. — Letters on the History of England. — 
James Boswell. — Dinner of Davies. — Anecdotes of Johnson and Gold- 
smith, ........ 139 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Hogarth a visitor at Islington — his character. — Street studies. — Sympathies 
between authors and painters. — Sir Joshua Reynolds — his character — his 
dinners. — The Literary Club — its members. — Johnson's revels with Lanky 
and Beau. — Goldsmith at the club, .... 147 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Johnson a monitor to Goldsmith — finds him in distress with his landlady — 
relieved by the Vicar of Wakefield. — The oratorio. — Poem of the Travel- 
ler. — The poet and his dog. — Success of the poem. — Astonishment of the 
club. — Observations on the poem, . . . .158 

CHAPTER XVI. 

New lodgings. — Johnson's compliment. — A titled patron. — The poet at 
Northumberland House. — His independence of the great. — The Countess 
of Northimiberland. — Edwin and Angelina. — Gosfield and Lord Clare. — 
Publication of Essays. — Evils of a rising reputation. — Hangers-on. — 
Job writing. — Goody Two-shoes. — A medical campaign. — Mrs. Sidebo- 
tham, . ......... 165 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Publication of the Vicar of Wakefield — opinions concerning it — of Dr. 
Johnson — of Rogers the poet — of Goethe — its merits. — Exquisite ex- 
tract. — Attack by Kemick. — Reply. — Book -building. — Project of a com- 
edy, . 174 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Social condition of Goldsmith — his colloquial contests with Johnson. — Anec- 
dotes and illustrations, . . . . . .183 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Social resorts. — The slnlling whist club. — A practical joke. — The Wednesday 
club. — The ' tun of man.' — The pig butcher. — Tom King. — Hugh Kelly. — 
Glover and bis characteristics, ..... 190 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XX. 



The Great Cham of literature and the King. — Scene at Sir Joshua Reynolds's — 
Goldsmith accused of jealousy. — Negotiations with Garrick. — The author 
and the actor — their correspondence, .... 195 



CHAPTER XXI. 

More hack authorship. — Tom Davies and the Roman History. — Canonbury 
Castle. — Political authorship. — Pecuniary temptation. — Death of Newbery 
the elder, 202 



CHAPTER XXn. 

Theatrical manceuvering. — The comedy of " False Delicacy." — First perform- 
ance of" The Good-natured Man." — Conduct of Johnson. — Conduct of the 
author. — Intermeddling of the press, .... 206 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Burning the candle at both ends. — Fine apartments. — Fine furniture. — Fine 
clothes. — Fine acquaintances. — Shoemaker's holiday and jolly pigeon asso- 
ciates. — Peter Barlow, Glover, and the Hampstead hoax. — Poor friends 
among great acquaintances, . . . . .212 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

Reduced again to book-building. — Rural retreat at Shoemaker's Paradise. — 
Death of Henry Goldsmith — tributes to his memory in the Deserted Vil- 
lage, ........ 218 

1* 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Dinner at BickerstafF's. — Hiffernan and his impecuniosity. — Kenrick's epi- 
gram. — Johnson's consolation. — Goldsmith's toilet. — The bloom-colored 
coat. — New acquaintances. — The Hornecks. — A touch of poetry and pas- 
sion. — The Jessamy Bride, ...... 222 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Goldsmith in the Temple. — Judge Day and Grattan. — Labor and dissipation. — 
Publication of the Roman History. — Opinions of it. — History of Animated 
Nature. — Temple rookery. — Anecdotes of a spider, . . 229 

CHAPTER XXVH. 

Honors at the Royal Academy. — Letter to his brother Maurice. — Family 
fortunes — Jane Contarine and the miniature. — Portraits and engrav- 
ings. — School associations. — Johnson and Goldsmith in Westminster 
Abbey, . . . 238 

CHAPTER XXVIIL 
Publication of the Deserted Village — ^notices and illustrations of it, . 245 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

The poet among the ladies — description of his person and manners. — Ex- 
pedition to Paris with the Horneck family. — The traveller of twenty and 
the traveller of forty. — Hickey, the special attorney. — An unlucky ex- 
ploit, . . . . ....... 253 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Death of Goldsmith's mother. — Biography of Parnell. — Agreement with 
Davies for theHistory of Rome. — Lifeof Bolingbroke. — The haunch of ven- 
ison, . , ........ 264 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

Dinner at the Royal Academy. — The Rowley controversy. — Horace Walpole's 
conduct to Chatterton. — Johnson at Redcliffe Church. — Goldsmith's History 
of England. — Davies's criticism. — Letter to Bennet Langton, . 269 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Marriage of Little Comedy. — Goldsmith at Barton. — Practical jokes at 
the expense of his toilet. — Amusements at Barton. — Aquatic misadven- 
ture, ........ 275 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Dinner at General Oglethorpe's. — Anecdotes of the general. — Dispute about 
duelling. — Ghost stories, ..... 279 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Mr. Joseph Cradock. — An author's confidings.— An amanuensis. — Life at Edge- 
ware. — Goldsmith conjuring. — George Colman. — The Fantoccini, . 284 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

Broken health. — Dissipation and debts. — The Irish Widow. — Practical jokes. — 
Scrub. — A misquoted pun. — Malagrida. — Goldsmith proved to be a fool. — 
Distressed ballad-singers. — The poet at Ranelagh, . i . 293 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Invitation to Christmas. — The spring-velvet coat. — The haymaking wig. — 
The mischances of loo. — The fair culprit. — A dance with the Jessamy 
Bride, 303 



3di CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 



Theatrical delays. — Negotiations with Colman. — Letter to Garrick. — Croaking 
of the manager. — Naming of the play. — She Stoops to Conquer. — Foote's 
Primitive Puppet Show, Piety on Pattens. — First performance of the 
comedy. — Agitation of the author. — Success. — Colman squibbed out of 
town. . ,.,.... 309 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
A newspaper attack. — The Evans affray. — Johnson's comment, . . 321 

A.^ CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Boswell in Holy-Week. — Dinner at Oglethorpe's. — Dinner at Paoli's. — The 
policy of truth. — Goldsmith affects independence of royalty. — Paoli's com- 
pliment. — Johnson's eulogium on the fiddle. — Question about suicide. — 
Boswell's subserviency, ...... 327 

CHAPTER XL. 

Changes in the Literary Club. — Johnson's objection to Garrick. — Election of 
BosweU, .337 

CHAPTER XLI. 

Dinner at Dilly's. — Conversations on natural history. — Intermeddling of 
Boswell. — Dispute about toleration. — Johnson's rebuff to Goldsmith — 
his apology. — Man-worship. — Doctors Major and Minor. — A farewell 
visit, ........ 341 

CHAPTER XLII. 

Project of a Dictionary of Arts and Sciences. — Disappointment. — Negligent 
authorship. — Application for a pension. — :Beattie's Essay on Truth. — Public 
adulation. — A high-minded rebuke, .... 347 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XLIII. 

Toil without hope. — The Poet in the green-room — ^in the flower garden — 
at Vauxhall — dissipation without gayety. — Cradock in town — friendly 
sympathy — a parting scene — an invitation to pleasure, . . 353 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

A return to drudgery — forced gayety — retreat to the country. — The poem 
of Retaliation. — Portrait of Garrick — of Goldsmith — of Reynolds. — Illness 
of the poet — his death. — Grief of his friends. — A last word respecting the 
Jessamy Bride, . . . . . . .360 

CHAPTER XLV. 
The iimeral. — The monument. — The epitaph. — Concluding reflections, 371 



PREFACE. 



In the course of a revised edition of my works I have come to a 
biographical sketch of Goldsmith, published several years since. 
It was written hastily, as introductory to a selection from his 
writings ; and, though the facts contained in it were collected 
from various sources, I was chiefly indebted for them to the 
voluminous work of Mr. James Prior, who had collected and 
collated the most minute particulars of the poet's history with 
unwearied research and scrupulous fidelity ; but had rendered 
them, as I thought, in a form too cumbrous and overlaid with 
details and disquisitions, and matters uninteresting to the gene- 
ral reader. 

When I was about of late to revise my biographical sketch, 
preparatory to republication, a volume was put into my hands, 
recently given to the public by Mr. John Forster, of the Inner 
Temple, who, likewise availing himself of the labors of the inde- 
fatigable Prior, and of a few new lights since evolved, has pro- 
duced a biography of the poet, executed with a spirit, a feeling, 
a grace and an eloquence, that leave nothing to be desired. In- 
deed it would have been presumption in me to undertake the 
subject after it had been thus felicitously treated, did I not stand 
committed by my previous sketch. That sketch now appeared 



PREFACE. 



too meager and insufficient to satisfy public demand ; yet it had 
to take its place in the revised series of my works unless some- 
thing more satisfactory could be substituted. Under these cir- 
cumstances I have again taken up the subject, and gone into it 
with more fulness than formerly, omitting none of the facts 
which I considered illustrative of the life and character of the 
poet, and giving them in as graphic a style as I could command. 
Still the hurried manner in which I have had to do this amidst 
the pressure of other claims on my attention, and with the 
press dogging at my heels, has prevented me from giving some 
parts of the subject the thorough handling I could have wished. 
Those who would like to see it treated still more at large, with 
the addition of critical disquisitions and the advantage of col- 
lateral facts, would do well to refer themselves to Mr. Prior's 
circumstantial volumes, or to the elegant and discursive pages of 
Mr. Forster. 

For my own part, I can only regret my short comings in 
what to me is a labor of love ; for it is a tribute of gratitude 
to the memory of an author whose writings were the delight 
of my childhood, and have been a source of enjoyment to me 
throughout life ; and to whom, of all others, I may address 
the beautiful apostrophe of Dante to Virgil : 

Tu se' lo mio maestro, e '1 mio autore : 
Tu se' solo colui, da cu' io tolsi 
Lo bello stile, che m' ha fatto onore. 

W. I. 

SUNNYSIDE, Aug. 1, 1849. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER I. 

Birth and parentage. — Characteristics of the Goldsmith race. — Poetical 
birthplace. — Goblin house. — Scenes of boyhood. — Lissoy. — Picture of a 
country parson. — Goldsmith's school mistress. — Byrne, the village school- 
master. — Goldsmith's hornpipe and epigram. — Uncle Contarine. — School 
studies and school sports. — Mistakes of a night. 

There are few writers for whom the reader feels such personal 
kindness as for Oliver Goldsmith, for few have so eminently 
possessed the magic gift of identifying themselves with their 
writings. We read his character in every page, and grow into 
familiar intimacy with him as we read. The artless benevolence 
that beams throughout his works ; the whimsical, yet amiable 
views of human life and human nature ; the unforced humor, 
blending so happily with good feeling and good sense, and singu- 
larly dashed at times with a pleasing melancholy : even the 
very nature of his mellow, and flowing, and softly-tinted style, 
all seem to bespeak his moral as well as his intellectual qualities, 
and make us love the man at the same time that we admire the 
author. While the productions of writers of loftier pretension 



18 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



and more sounding names are suffered to moulder on our shelves, 
those of Groldsmitli are cherished and laid in our bosoms. We 
do not quote them with ostentation, but they mingle with our 
minds, sweeten our tempers, and harmonize our thoughts ; they 
put us in good humor with ourselves and with the world, and in 
so doing they make us happier and better men. 

An acquaintance with the private biography of Groldsmith 
lets us into the secret of his gifted pages. We there discover 
them to be little more than transcripts of his own heart and pic- 
turings of his fortunes. There he shows himself the same kind, 
artless, good-humored, excursive, sensible, whimsical, intelligent 
being that he appears in his writings. Scarcely an adventure or 
character is given in his works that may not be traced to his own 
parti-colored story. Many of his most ludicrous scenes and 
ridiculous incidents have been drawn from his own blunders and 
mischances, and he seems really to have been buffeted into almost 
every maxim imparted by him for the instruction of his reader. 

Oliver Groldsmith was born on the 10th of November, 1728, 
at the hamlet of Pallas, or Pallasmore, county of Longford, in 
Ireland. He sprang from a respectable, but by no means a 
thrifty stock. Some families seem to inherit kindliness and in- 
competency, and to hand down virtue and poverty from genera- 
tion to generation. Such was the ease with the Groldsmiths. 
" They were always," according to their own accounts, " a strange ' 
family ; they rarely acted like other people ; their hearts were 
in the right place, but their heads seemed to be doing any 
thing but what they ought." — "They were remarkable," says 
another statement, "for their worth, but of no cleverness in the 
ways of the world." Oliver Groldsmith will be found faithfully 
to inherit the virtues and weaknesses of his race. 



POETICAL BIRTHPLACE. 19 



His father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, with hereditary 
improvidence, married when very young and very poor, and 
starved along for several years on a small country curacy and 
the assistance of his wife's friends. His whole income, eked out 
by the produce of some fields which he farmed, and of some oc- 
casional duties performed for his wife's uncle, the rector of an 
adjoining parish, did not exceed forty pounds. 

"And passing rich with forty pounds a year." 

He inhabited an old, half rustic mansion, that stood on a rising 
ground in a rough, lonely part of the country, overlooking a low 
tract occasionally flooded by the river Inny. In this house Gold- 
smith was born, and it was a birthplace worthy of a poet ; for, 
by all accounts, it was haunted ground. A tradition handed down 
among the neigliboring peasantry states that, in after years, the 
house, remaining for some time untenanted, went to decay, the 
roof fell in, and it became so lonely and forlorn as to be a resort 
for the " good people " or fairies, who in Ireland are supposed to 
delight in old, crazy, deserted mansions for their midnight revels. 
All attempts to repair it were in vain ; the fairies battled stoutly 
to maintain possession. A huge misshapen hobgoblin used to be- 
stride the house every evening with an immense pair of jack- 
boots, which, in his efforts at hard riding, he would thrust through 
the roof, kicking to pieces all the work of the preceding day. 
The house was therefore left to its fate, and went to ruin. 

Such is the popular tradition about Goldsmith's birthplace. 
About two years after his birth a change came over the circum- 
stances of his father. By the death of his wife's uncle he suc- 
ceeded to the rectory of Kilkenny West ; and, abandoning the 



20 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



old goblin mansion, he removed to Lissoy, in the county of West- 
meath, where he occupied a farm of seventy acres, situated on 
the skirts of that pretty little village. 

This was the scene of Groldsmith's boyhood, the little world 
whence he drew many of those pictures, rural and domestic, 
whimsical and touching, which abound throughout his works, and 
which appeal so eloquently both to the fancy and the heart. 
Lissoy is confidently cited as the original of his "Auburn" in 
the " Deserted Village ;" his father's establishment, a mixture of 
farm and parsonage, furnished hints, it is said, for the rural 
economy of the Vicar of Wakefield ; and his father himself, with 
his learned simplicity, his guileless wisdom, his amiable piety. 
and utter ignorance of the world, has been exquisitely portrayed 
in the worthy Dr. Primrose. Let us pause for a moment, and draw 
from Goldsmith's writings one or two of those pictures which, 
under feigned names, represent his father and his family, and the 
happy fireside of his childish days. 

" My father," says the " Man in Black," who, in some re- 
spects, is a counterpart of Goldsmith himself, " my father, the 
younger son of a good family, was possessed of a small living in 
the church. His education was above his fortune, and his gen- 
erosity greater than his education. Poor as he was, he had his 
flatterers poorer than himself; for every dinner he gave them, 
they returned him an equivalent in praise ; and this was all he 
wanted. The same ambition that actuates a monarch at the 
head of his army, influenced my father at the head of his table 
he told the story of the ivy-tree, and that was laughed at ; he 
repeated the jest of the two scholars and one pair of breeches, 
and the company laughed at that ; but the story of Tafiy in the 
sedan-chair was sure to set the table in a roar. Thus his plea- 



SCENES OF BOYHOOD. 21 



sure increased in proportion to the pleasure he gave ; he loved 
all the world, and he fancied all the world loved him. 

" As his fortune was but small, he lived up to the very extent 
of it : he had no intention of leaving his children money, for that 
was dross ; he resolved they should have learning, for learning, 
he used to observe, was better than silver or gold. For this 
purpose he undertook to instruct us himself, and took as much 
care to form our morals as to improve our understanding. We 
were told that universal benevolence was what first cemented so- 
ciety : we were taught to consider all the wants of mankind as 
our own ; to regard the human face divine with affection and 
esteem ; he wound us up to be mere machines of pity, and ren- 
dered us incapable of withstanding the . slightest impulse made 
either by real or fictitious distress. In a word, we were perfectly 
instructed in the art of giving away thousands before ^e were 
taught the necessary qualifications of getting a farthing." 

In the Deserted Village we have another picture of his father 
and his father's fireside : 



" His house was known to all the vagrant train, 
He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ; 
The long-remembered beggar was his guest. 
Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast ; 
The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, 
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ; 
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay. 
Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away ; 
"Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, 
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won. 
Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow. 
And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 



22 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Careless tlieir merits or their faults to scan, 
His pity gave ere charity began." 

The family of the worthy pastor consisted of five sons and 
three daughters. Henry, the eldest, was the good man's pride 
and hope, and he tasked his slender means to the utmost in edu- 
cating him for a learned and distinguished career. Oliver was 
the second son, and seven years younger than Henry, who was 
the guide and protector of his childhood, and to whom he was 
most tenderly attached throughout life. 

Oliver's education began when he was about three years old ; 
that is to say, he was gathered under the wings of one of those 
good old motherly dames, found in every village, who cluck toge- 
ther the whole callow brood of the neighborhood, to teach them 
their lexers and keep them out of harm's way. Mistress Eliza- 
beth Delap, for that was her name, flourished in this capacity for 
upward of fifty years, and it was the pride and boast of her de- 
clining days, when nearly ninety years of age, that she was the 
first that had put a book (doubtless a hornbook) into Goldsmith's 
hands. Apparently he did not much profit by it, for she con- 
fessed he was one of the dullest boys she had ever dealt with, 
insomuch that she had sometimes doubted whether it was possi- 
ble to make any thing of him : a common case with imaginative 
children, who are apt to be beguiled from the dry abstractions of 
elementary study by the picturings of the fancy. 

At six years of age he passed into the hands of the village 
schoolmaster, one Thomas (or, as he was commonly and irrever- 
ently named, Paddy) Byrne, a capital tutor for a poet. He had 
been educated for a pedagogue, but had enlisted in the army, 
served abroad during the wars of Queen Anne's time, and risen 



PICTURE OF A COUNTRY PEDAGOGUE. 23 



to the rank of quai-termaster of a regiment in Spain. At the 
return of peace, having no longer exercise for the sword, he 
resumed the ferule, and drilled the urchin populace of Lissoy. 
Goldsmith is supposed to have had him and his school in view in 
the following sketch in his Deserted Village : 

" Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way. 
With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay. 
There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, 
The village master taught his little school ; 
A man severe he was, and stern to view, 
I knew him well, and every truant knew : 
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace 
The day's disasters in his morning face ; 
Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee 
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 
Full well the busy whisper circling round, 
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd : 
Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught. 
The love he bore to learning was in fault ; 
The village all declared how much he knew, 
'Twas certain he could wi'ite and cipher too ; 
Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage. 
And e'en the story ran that he could guage : 
In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill. 
For, e'en though vanquished, he could argue still ; 
While words of learned length and thund'ring sound 
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around — 
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew. 
That one small head could carry all he knew." 

There are certain whimsical traits in the character of Byrne, 
not given in the foregoing sketch. He was fond of talking of 



24 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



his vagabond wanderings in foreign lands, and had brought with 
him from the wars a world of campaigning stories, of which he 
was generally the hero, and which he would deal forth to his 
wondering scholars when he ought to have been teaching them 
their lessons. These travellers' tales had a powerful effect upon 
the vivid imagination of Groldsmith, and awakened an uncon- 
querable passion for wandering and seeking adventure. 

Byrne was, moreover, of a romantic vein, and exceedingly 
superstitious. He was deeply versed in the fairy superstitions 
which abound in Ireland, all which he professed implicitly to be- 
lieve. Under his tuition Groldsmith soon became almost as great 
a proficient in fairy lore. From this branch of good-for-nothing 
knowledge, his studies, by an easy transition, extended to the 
histories of robbers, pirates, smugglers, and the whole race of 
Irish rogues and rapparees. Every thing, in short, that savored 
of romance, fable, and adventure, was congenial to his poetic 
mind, and took instant root there ; but the slow plants of useful 
knowledge were apt to be overrun, if not choked, by the weeds 
of his quick imagination. 

Another trait of his motley preceptor, Byrne, was a disposi- 
tion to dabble in poetry, and this likewise was caught by his 
pupil^ Before he was eight years old Groldsmith had contracted 
a habit of scribbling verses on small scraps of paper, which, in a 
little while, he would throw into the fire. A few of these sybil- 
line leaves, however, were rescued from* the flames and conveyed 
to his mother. The good woman read them with a mother's 
delight, and saw at once that her son was a genius and a poet. 
From that time she beset her husband with solicitations to give 
the boy an education suitable to his talents. The worthy man 
was already straitened by the costs of instruction of his eldest 



HORNPIPE AND EPIGRAM. 25 



son Henry, and had intended to bring his second son up to a 
trade ; but the mother would listen to no such thing ; as usual, 
her influence prevailed, and Oliver, instead of being instructed 
in some humble, but cheerful and gainful handicraft, was devoted 
to poverty and the Muse. 

A severe attack of the smallpox caused him to be taken from 
under the care of his story-telling preceptor, Byrne. His malady 
had nearly proved fatal, and his face remained pitted through 
life. On his recovery he was placed under the charge of the 
Rev. Mr. Griffin, schoolmaster of Elphin, in Roscommon, and 
became an inmate in the house of his uncle, John Groldsmith, 
Esq., of Ballyoughter, in that vicinity. He now entei-ed upon 
studies of a higher order, but without making any uncommon 
progress. Still a careless, easy facility of disposition, an amusing 
eccentricity of manners, and a vein of quiet and peculiar humor, 
rendered him a general favorite, and a trifling incident soon in- 
duced his uncle's family to concur in his mother's opinion of his 
genius. 

A number of young folks had assembled at his uncle's to 
dance. One of the company, named Cummings, played on the 
violin. In the course of the evening Oliver undertook a horn- 
pipe. His short and clumsy figure, and his face pitted and dis- 
colored with the smallpox, rendered him a ludicrous figure in the 
eyes of the musician, who made merry at his expense, dubbing 
him his little ^sop. Goldsmith was nettled by the jest, and. 
stopping short in the hornpipe, exclaimed, 

" Our hetald hath proclaimed this saying, 
See .lEsop dancing, and his monkey playing." 

The repartee was thought wonderful for a boy of nine years 

2 



26 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



old, and Oliver became forthwith the wit and the bright genius 
of the family. It was thought a pity he should not receive the 
same advantages with his elder brother Henry, who had been 
sent to the University ; and, as his father's circumstances would 
not aiford it, several of his relatives, spurred on by the repre- 
sentations of his mother, agreed to contribute towards the 
expense. The greater part, however, was borne by his uncle, the 
Rev. Thomas Contarine. This worthy man had been the college 
companion of Bishop Berkeley, and was possessed of moderate 
means, holding the living of Carrick-on-Shannon. He had mar- 
ried the sister of Goldsmith's father, but was now a widower, 
with an only child, a daughter, named Jane. Contarine was a 
kind-hearted man, with a generosity beyond his means. He took 
Groldsmith into favor from his infancy ; his house was open to 
him during the holidays ; his daughter Jane, two years older 
than the poet, was his early playmate : and uncle Contarine con- 
tinued to the last one of his most active, unwavering, and gene- 
rous friends. 

Fitted out in a great measure by this considerate relative, 
Oliver was now transferred to schools of a higher order, to pre- 
pare him for the University ; first to one at Athlone, kept by the 
Bev. Mr. Campbell, and, at the end of two years, to one at Edge- 
worthstown, under the superintendence of the Bev. Patrick 
Hughes. 

Even at these schools his proficiency does not appear to 
have been brilliant. He was indolent and careless, however, 
rather than dull, and, on the whole, appears to have been well 
thought of by his teachers. In his studies he inclined towards 
the Latin poets and historians ; relished Ovid and Horace, and 
delighted in Livy. He exercised himself with pleasure in read- 



SCHOOL PRANKS. 27 



ing and translating Tacitus, and was brought to pay attention to 
style in his compositions by a reproof from his brother Henry, to 
whom he had written brief and confused letters, and who told 
him in reply, that if he had but little to say, to endeavor to say 
that little well. 

The career of his brother Henry at the University was 
enough to stimulate him to exertion. He seemed to be realizing 
all his father's hopes, and was winning collegiate honors that the 
good man considered indicative of his future success in life. 

In the meanwhile, Oliver, if not distinguished among his 
teachers, was popular among his schoolmates. He had a thought- 
less generosity extremely captivating to young hearts : his tem- 
per was quick and sensitive, and easily offended ; but his- anger 
was momentary, and it was impossible for him to harbor resent- 
ment. He was the leader of all boyish sports and athletic 
amusements, especially ball-playing, and he was foremost in 
all mischievous pranks. Many years afterward, an old' man, 
Jack Fitzimmons, one of the directors of the sports and keeper 
of the ball-court at Ballymahon, used to boast of having been 
schoolmate of " Noll Goldsmith," as he called him, and would 
dwell with vainglory on one of their exploits, in robbing the 
orchard of Tirlicken, an old family residence of Lord Annaly. 
The exploit, however, had nearly involved disastrous conse- 
quences ; for the crew of juvenile depredators were captured, 
like Shakspeare and his deer-stealing colleagues ; and nothing but 
the respectability of Groldsmith's tonnections saved him from the 
punishment that would have awaited more plebeian delinquents. 

An amusing incident is related as occurring in Groldsmith's 
last journey homeward from Edgeworthstown. His father's 
house was about twenty miles distant ; the road lay through a 



28 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



rougli country, impassable for carriages. Groldsmitli procured a 
horse for the journey, and a friend furnished him with a guinea 
for travelling expenses. He was but a stripling of sixteen, and 
being thus suddenly mounted on horseback, with money in his 
pocket, it is no wonder that his head was turned. He deter- 
mined to play the man, and to spend his money in independent 
traveller's style. Accordingly, instead of pushing directly for 
home, he halted for the night at the little town of Ardagh, and, 
accosting the first person he met, inquired, with somewhat of a 
consequential air, for the best house in the place. Unluckily, the 
person he had accosted was one Kelly, a notorious wag, who was 
quartered in the family of one Mr. Featherstone, a gentleman of 
fortune. Amused with the self-consequence of the stripling, and 
willing to play off a practical joke at his expense, he directed 
him to what was literally " the best house in the place," namely, 
the family mansion of Mr. Featherstone. Goldsmith accordingly 
rode up to what he supposed to be an inn, ordered his horse to 
be taken to the stable, walked into the parlor, seated himself by 
the fire, and demanded what he could have for supper. On ordi- 
nary occasions he was difiident and even awkward in his manners, 
but here he was " at ease in his inn," and felt called upon to 
show his manhood and enact the experienced traveller. His 
person was by no means calculated to play off his pretensions, 
for he was short and thick, with a pock-marked face, and an air 
and carriage by no means of a distinguished cast. The owner 
of the house, however, soon discovered his whimsical mistake, 
and, being a man of humor, determined to indulge it, especially 
as he accidentally learned that this intruding guest was the son 
of an old acquaintance. 

Accordingly, Goldsmith was "fooled to the top of his bent," 



MISTAKES OF A NIGHT. 29 



and permitted to have full sway throughout the evening. Never 
was schoolboy more elated. When supper was served, he most 
condescendingly insisted that the landlord, his wife and daughter 
should partake, and ordered a bottle of wine to crown the repast 
and benefit the house. His last flourish was on going to bed, 
when he gave especial orders to have a hot cake at breakfast. 
His confusion and dismay, on discovering the next morning that 
he had been swaggering in this free and easy way in the house 
of a private gentleman, may be readily conceived. True to his 
habit of turning the events of his life to literary account, we 
find this chapter of ludicrous blunders and cross purposes drama- 
tized many years afterward in his admirable comedy of " She 
Stoops to Conquer, or the Mistakes of a Night." 



30 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER II. 

Improvident marriages in the Goldsmith family. — Goldsmith at the univer- 
sity. — Situation of a sizer. — Tyi-anny of Wilder, the tutor. — Pecuniary 
straits. — Street ballads. — College riot. — Gallows Walsh. — College prize. — 
A dance interrupted. 

While Oliver was making liis way somewhat negligently through 
the schools, his elder brother Henry was rejoicing his father's 
heart by his career at the University. He soon distinguished 
himself at the examinations, and obtained a scholarship in 1743. 
This is a collegiate distinction which serves as a stepping-stone in 
any of the learned professions, and which leads to advancement 
in the University should the individual choose to remain there. 
His father now trusted that he would push forward for that com- 
fortable provision, a fellowship, and thence to higher dignities and 
emoluments. Henry, however, had the improvidence or the 
" unworldliness " of his race : returning to the country during 
the succeeding vacation, he married for love, relinquished, of 
course, all his collegiate prospects and advantages, set up a 
school in his father's neighborhood, and buried his talents and 
acquirements for the remainder of his life in a curacy of forty 
pounds a year. 

Another matrimonial event occurred not long afterward in 
the Goldsmith family, to disturb the equanimity of its worthy 



THE HODSON MARRIAGE. 31 



head. This was the clandestine marriage of his daughter Cathe- 
rine with a young gentleman of the name of Hodson, who had 
been confided to the care of her brother Henry to complete his 
studies. As the youth was of wealthy parentage, it was thought 
a lucky match for the Goldsmith family ; but the tidings of the 
event stung the bride's father to the soul. Proud of his integ- 
rity, and jealous of that good name which was his chief posses- 
sion, he saw himself and his family subjected to the degrading 
suspicion of having abused a trust reposed in them to promote a 
mercenary match. In the first transports of his feelings, he is 
said to have uttered a wish that his daughter might never have a 
child to bring like shame and sorrow on her head. The hasty 
wish, so contrary to the usual benignity of the man, was recalled 
and repented of almost as soon as uttered ; but it was considered 
baleful in its effects by the superstitious neighborhood ; for, 
though his daughter bore three children, they all died before 
her. 

A more effectual measure was taken by Mr. Groldsmith to 
ward off the apprehended imputation, but one which imposed a 
heavy burden on his family. This was to furnish a marriage por- 
tion of four hundred pounds, that his daughter might not be 
said to have entered her husband's family empty-handed. To 
raise the sum in cash was impossible ; but he assigned to Mr. 
Hodson his little farm and the income of his tithes until the 
marriage portion should be paid. In the meantime, as his living 
did not amount to £200 per annum, he had to practise the strict- 
est economy to pay off gradually this heavy tax incurred by his 
nice sense of honor. 

The first of his family to feel the effects of this economy was 
Oliver. The time had now arrived for him to be sent to the 



32 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



University; and, accordingly, on tlie 1 Itli June. 1747. wlien sixteen 
years of age, he entered Trinity College, Dublin ; but his father 
was no longer able to place him there as a pensioner, as he had 
done his eldest son Henry ; he was obliged, therefore, to enter 
him as a sizer. or " poor scholar." He was lodged in one of the 
top rooms adjoining the library of the building, numbered 35, 
where it is said his name may still be seen, scratched by himself 
upon a window frame. 

A student of this class is taught and boarded gratuitously, 
and has to pay but a very small sum for his room. It is ex- 
pected, in return for these advantages, that he will be a diligent 
student, and render himself useful in a variety of ways. In 
Trinity College, at the time of Goldsmith's admission, several 
derogator}', and, indeed, menial offices were exacted from the 
sizer, as if the college sought to indemnify itself for conferring 
benefits by inflicting indignities. He was obliged to sweep part 
of the courts in the morning ; to carry up the dishes from the 
kitchen to the fellows' table, and to wait in the hall until that 
bod}' had dined. His very dress marked the inferiority of the 
" poor student '' to his happier classmates. It was a black gown 
of coarse stufl" without sleeves, and a plain black cloth cap with- 
out a tassel. We can conceive nothing more odious and ill- 
judged than these distinctions, which attached the idea of degra- 
dation to poverty, and placed the indigent youth of merit below 
the worthless minion of fortune. They were calculated to wound 
and irritate the noble mind, and to render the base mind baser. 

Indeed, the galling eifect of these servile tasks upon youths 
of proud spirits and quick sensibilities became at length too 
notorious to be disregarded. About fifty years since, on a 
Trinity Sunday, a number of persons were assembled to witness 



INDIGNITIES OF A "POOR STUDENT." 33 



the college ceremonies ; and as a sizer was carrying up a dish of 
meat to the fellows' table, a burly citizen in the crowd made 
some sneering observation on the servility of his office. Stung 
to the quick, the high-spirited youth instantly flung the dish and 
ts contents at the head of the sneerer. The sizer was sharply re- 
primanded for this outbreak of wounded pride, but the degrading 
task was from that day forward very properly consigned to 
menial hands. 

It was with the utmost repugnance that Goldsmith entered 
college in this capacity. His shy and sensitive nature was 
affected by the inferior station he was doomed to hold among his 
gay and opulent fellow-students, and he became, at times, moody 
and despondent. A recollection of these early mortifications 
induced him, in after years, most strongly to dissuade his brother 
Henry, the clergyman, from sending a son to college on a like 
footing. " If he has ambition, strong passions, and an exquisite 
sensibility of contempt, do not send him there, unless you have 
no other trade for him except your own." 

To add to his annoyances, the fellow of the college who had 
the peculiar control of his studies, the Rev. Theaker Wilder, 
was a man of violent and capricious temper, and of diametrically 
opposite tastes. The tutor was devoted to the exact sciences ; 
Goldsmith was for the classics. Wilder endeavored to force his 
favorite studies upon the student by harsh means, suggested by 
his own coarse and savage nature. He abused him in presence 
of the class as ignorant and stupid ; ridiculed him as awkward 
and ugly, and at times in the transports of his temper indulged 
in personal violence. The effect was to aggravate a passive dis- 
taste into a positive aversion. Goldsmith was loud in expressing 
his contempt for mathematics and his dislike of ethics and logic ; 

2* . 



34 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 



and the prejudices thus imbibed continued through life. Mathe- 
matics he always pronounced a science to which the meanest 
intellects were competent. 

A truer cause of this distaste for the severer studies may 
probably be found in his natural indolence and his love of convi- 
vial pleasures. " I was a lover of mirth, good-humor, and even 
sometimes of fun," said he, " from my childhood." He sang a 
good song, was a boon companion, and could not resist any tempta- 
tion to social enjoyment. He endeavored to persuade himself 
that learning and dulncss went hand in hand, and that genius 
was not to be put in harness. Even in riper years, when the 
consciousness of his own deficiencies ought to have convinced him 
of the importance of early study, he speaks slightingly of col- 
lege honors. 

" A lad," says he, " whose passions are not strong enough in 
youth to mislead him from that path of science which his tutors, 
and not his inclination, have chalked out, by four or five years' 
perseverance will probably obtain every advantage and honor his 
college can bestow. I would compare the man whose youth h^s 
been thus passed in the tranquillity of dispassionate prudence, to 
liquors that never ferment, and, consequently, continue always 
muddy." 

The death of his worthy father, which took place early in 
1747, rendered Goldsmith's situation at college extremely irk- 
some. His mother was left with little more than the means of 
providing for the wants of her household, and was unable to fur- 
nish him any remittances. He would have been compelled, 
therefore, to leave college, had it not been for the occasional 
contributions of friends, the foremost among whom was his gene- 
rous and warm-hearted uncle Contarine. Still these supplies 



PECUNIARY STRAITS. 35 



were so scanty and precarious, that in the intervals between them 
he was put to great straits. He had two college associates from 
whom he would occasionally borrow small sums ; one was an 
early schoolmate, by the name of Beatty ; the other a cousin, and 
the chosen companion of his frolicks, Robert (or rather Bob) 
Bryanton, of Ballymulvey House, near Ballymahon. When 
these casual supplies failed him he was more than once obliged to 
raise funds for his immediate wants by pawning his books. At 
times he sank into despondency, but he had what he termed 
"a knack at hoping," which soon buoyed him up again. He 
began now to resort to his poetical vein as a source of profit, scrib- 
bling street-ballads, which he privately sold for five shillings each 
at a shop which dealt in such small wares of literature. He 
felt an author's affection for these unowned bantlings, and we 
are told would stroll privately through the streets at night to 
hear them sung, listening to the comments and criticisms of by- 
standers, and observing the degree of applause which each 
received. 

Edmund Burke was a fellow-student with Goldsmith at the 
college. Neither the statesman nor the poet gave promise of their 
future celebrity, though Burke certainly surpassed his contempo- 
rary in industry and application, and evinced more disposition 
for self-improvement, associating himself with a number of his 
fellow-students in a debating club, in which they discussed 
literary topics, and exercised themselves in composition. 

Goldsmith may likewise have belonged to this association, but 
his propensity was rather to mingle with the gay and thought- 
less. On one occasion we find him implicated in an affair that 
came nigh producing his expulsion. A report was brought to 
college that a scholar was in the hands of the bailiffs. This 



36 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



was an insult in whicli every gownsman felt himself involved.- 
A number of the scholars flew to arms-, and sallied forth to battle, 
headed by a hair-brained fellow nicknamed Gallows "Walsh, noted 
for his aptness at mischief and fondness for riot. The strong- 
hold of the bailiff was carried by storm, the scholar set at liberty, 
and the delinquent catehpole borne off captive to the college, 
where, having no pump to put him under, they satisfied the 
demands of collegiate law by ducking him in an old cistern. 

Flushed with this signal victory, Grallows Walsh now harangued 
his followers, and proposed to break open Newgate, or the Black 
Dog, as the prison was called, and effect a general jail delivery. 
He was answered by shouts of concurrence, and away went the 
throng of madcap youngsters, fully bent upon putting an end to 
the tyranny of law. They were joined by the mob of the city, 
and made an attack upon the prison with true Irish precipitation 
and thoughtlessness, never having provided themselves with can- 
non to batter its stone walls. A few shots from the prison 
brought them to their senses, and they beat a hasty retreat, two 
of the townsmen being killed, and several wounded. 

A severe scrutiny of this affair took place at the University. 
Four students, who had been ringleaders, were expelled ; four 
others, who had been prominent in the affray, were publicly ad- 
monished ; among the latter was the unlucky Goldsmith. 

To make up for this disgrace, he gained, within a month 
afterward, one of the minor prizes of the college. It is true it 
was one of the very smallest, amounting in pecuniary value to 
but thirty shillings, but it was the first distinction he had gained 
in his whole collegiate career. This turn of success and sudden 
influx of wealth proved too much for the head of our poor 
student. He forthwith gave a supper and dance at his chamber 



TYRANNY OF WILDER, THE TUTOR. 37 



to a number of young persons of both sexes from the city, in 
direct violation of college rules. The unwonted sound of the 
fiddle reached the ears of the implacable Wilder. He rushed to 
the scene of unhallowed festivity, inflicted corporal punishment 
on the " father of the feast," and turned his astonished guests 
neck and heels out of doors. 

This filled the measure of poor Goldsmith's humiliations ; he 
felt degraded both within college and without. He dreaded the 
ridicule of his fellow-students for the ludicrous termination of 
his orgie, and he was ashamed to meet his city acquaintances 
after the degrading chastisement received in their presence, 
and after their own ignominious expulsion. Above all, he felt 
it impossible to submit any longer to the insulting tyranny 
of Wilder : he determined, therefore, to leave, not merely the 
college, but also his native land, and to bury what he conceived 
to be his irretrievable disgrace in some distant country. He ac- 
cordingly sold his books and clothes, and sallied forth from-the 
college walls the very next day, intending to embark at Cork for 
— he scarce knew where — America, or any other part beyond sea. 
With his usual heedless imprudence, however, he loitered about 
Dublin until his finances were reduced to a shilling ; with this 
amount of specie he set out on his journey. 

For three whole days he subsisted on his shilling ; when that 
was spent, he parted with some of the clothes from his back, un- 
til, reduced almost to nakedness, he was four-and-tweuty hours 
without food, insomuch that he declared a handful of gray pease, 
given to him by a girl at a wake, was one of the most delicious 
repasts he had ever tasted. Hunger, fatigue, and destitution 
brought down his spirit and calmed his anger. Fain would he 
have retraced his steps, could he have done so with any salvo for 



38 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



the lingerings of his pride. In his extremity he conveyed to his 
brother Henry information of his distress, and of the rash pro- 
ject on which he had set out. His affectionate brother hastened 
to his relief; furnished him with money and clothes ; soothed his 
feelings with gentle counsel ; prevailed upon him to return to 
college, and effected an indifferent reconciliation between him 
and Wilder. 

After this irregular sally upon life he remained nearly two 
years longer at the University, giving proofs of talent in occa- 
sional translations from the classics, for one of which he received 
a premium, awarded only to those who are the first in literary 
merit. Still he never made much figure at college, his natural 
disinclination to study being increased by the harsh treatment 
he continued to experience from his tutor. 

Among the anecdotes told of him while at college is one indi- 
cative of that prompt, but thoughtless and often whimsical bene- 
volence which throughout life formed one of the most eccentric, 
yet endearing points of his character. He was engaged to break- 
fast one day with a college intimate, but failed to make his appear- 
ance. His friend repaired to his room, knocked at the door, and 
was bidden to enter. To his surprise, he found Goldsmith in 
his bed, immersed to his chin in feathers. A serio-comic story 
explained the circumstance. In the course of the preceding even- 
ing's stroll he had met with a woman with five children, who im- 
plored his charity. Her husband was in the hospital ; she was 
just from the country, a stranger, and destitute, without food or 
shelter for her helpless offspring. This was too much for the 
kind heart of Goldsmith. He was almost as poor as herself, it is 
true, and had no money in his pocket ; but he brought her to the 
college gate, gave her the blankets from his bed to cover her lit- 



THE STUDENT'S RETURN HOME. 39 



tie brood, and part of his clothes for her to sell and purchase 
food ; and, finding himself cold during the night, had cut open 
his bed and buried himself among the feathers. 

At length, on the 27th of February, 1749, 0. S., he was ad- 
mitted to the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and took his final 
leave of the University. He was freed from college rule, that 
emancipation so ardently coveted by the thoughtless student, and 
which too generally launches him amid the cares, the hardships, 
and vicissitudes of life. He was freed, too, from the brutal 
tyranny of Wilder. If his kind and placable nature could re- 
tain any resentment for past injuries, it might have been gratified 
by learning subsequently that the passionate career of Wilder 
was terminated by a violent death in the course of a dissolute 
brawl ; but Goldsmith took no delight in the misfortunes even 
of his enemies. 

He now returned to his friends, no longer the student to 
sport away the happy interval of vacation, but the anxious man, 
who is henceforth to shift for himself and make his way through 
the world. In fact, he had no legitimate home to return to. At 
the death of his father, the paternal house at Lissoy, in which 
Goldsmith had passed his childhood, had been taken by Mr, 
Hodson, who had married his sister Catherine. His mother had 
removed to Ballymahon, where she occupied a small house, and 
had to practise the severest frugality. His elder brother Henry 
served the curacy and taught the school of his late father's 
parish, and lived in narrow circumstances at Goldsmith's birth- 
place, the old goblin-house at Pallas. 

None of his relatives were in circumstances to aid him with 
any thing more than a temporary home, and the aspect of every 
one seemed somewhat changed. In fact, his career at college 



40 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



liad disappointed his friends, and they began to doubt his being 
the great genius they had fancied him. He whimsically alludes 
to this circumstance in that piece of autobiography, " The Man 
in Black," in the Citizen of the World. 

" The first opportunity my father had of finding his expecta- 
tions disappointed was in the middling figure I made at the 
University : he had flattered himself that he should soon see me 
rising into the foremost rank in literary reputation, but was 
mortified to find me utterly unnoticed and unknown. His disap- 
pointment might have been partly ascribed to his having over- 
rated my talents, and partly to my dislike of mathematical reason- 
ings at a time when my imagination and memory, yet unsatisfied, 
were more eager after new objects than desirous of reasoning 
upon those I knew. This, however, did not please my tutors, 
who observed, indeed, that I was a little dull, but at the same 
time allowed that I seemed to be very good-natured, and had no 
harm in me."* 

The only one of his relatives who did not appear to lose 
faith in him was his uncle Contarine. This kind and considerate 
man, it is said, saw in him a warmth of heart requiring some 
skill to direct, and a latent genius that wanted time to mature, 
and these impressions none of his subsequent follies and irregu- 
larities wholly obliterated. His purse and affection, therefore, as 
well as his house, were now open to him, and he became his chief 
counsellor and director after his father's death. He urged him 
to prepare for holy orders ; and others of his relatives concurred 
in the advice. Groldsmith had a settled repugnance to a clerical 
life. This has been ascribed by some to conscientious scruples, 

* Citizen of the World, letter xxvii. 



LIFE AT LISSOY. 41 



not considering himself of a temper and frame of mind for such 
a sacred office : others attributed it to his roving propensities, 
and his desire to visit foreign countries ; he himself gives a whim- 
sical objection in his biography of the " Man in Black :" — " To 
be obliged to wear a long wig when I liked a short one, or a black 
coat when I generally dressed in brown, I thought such a re- 
straint upon my liberty that I absolutely rejected the proposal." 
In effect, however, his scruples were overruled, and he agreed 
to qualify himself for the office. He was now only twenty-one, 
and must pass two years of probation. They were two years of 
rather loitering unsettled life. Sometimes he was at Lissoy, parti- 
cipating with thoughtless enjoyment in the rural sports and occu- 
pations of his brother-in-law, Mr. Hodson ; sometimes he was 
with his brother Henry, at the old goblin mansion at Pallas, as- 
sisting him occasionally in his school. The early marriage and 
unambitious retirement of Henry, though so subversive of the 
fond plans of his father, had proved happy in their results. He 
was already surrounded by a blooming family ; he was contented 
with his lot, beloved by his parishioners, and lived in the daily 
practice of all the amiable virtues, and the immediate enjoy- 
ment of their reward. Of the tender affection inspired in the 
breast of G-oldsmith by the constant kindness of this excellent 
brother, and of the longing recollection with which, in the lonely 
wanderings of after years, he looked back upon this scene of do- 
mestic felicity, we have a touching instance in the well-known 
opening to his poem of " The Traveller :" 



■ Remote, unfi-iended, melancholy slow, 
Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po ; 
****** 



42 OLR^ER GOLDSMITH. 



Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, 
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee ; 
Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain. 
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 

Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend. 
And round his dwelling guardian saints attend ; 
Bless'd be that spot, where cheerful guests retire 
To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire ; 
Bless'd that abode, where want and pain repair. 
And every stranger finds a ready chair : 
Bless'd be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd. 
Where all the ruddy family around 
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail. 
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale ; 
Or press the bashful stranger to his food. 
And learn the luxury of doing good." 

During this loitering life Groldsmith pursued no study, but 
rather amused himself with miscellaneous reading ; such as bio- 
graphy, travels, poetry, novels, plays — every thing, in short, that 
administered to the imagination. Sometimes he strolled along 
the banks of the river Inny ; where, in after years, when he had 
become famous, his favorite seats and haunts used to be pointed 
out. Often he joined in the rustic sports of the villagers, and 
became adroit at throwing the sledge, a favorite feat of activity 
and strength in Ireland. Recollections of these "healthful 
sports " we find in his " Deserted Village :" 

"How often have I bless'd the coming day. 
When toil remitting lent its turn to play. 
And all the village train, from labor free. 
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree : 



THE CLUB AT BALLYMAHON. 43 



And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, 

And sleights of art and feats of strength went round." 

A boon companion in all his rural amusements, was his 
cousin and college crony, Robert Bryanton, with whom he so- 
journed occasionally at Ballymulvey House in the neighborhood. 
They used to make excursions about the country on foot, some- 
times fishing, sometimes hunting otter in the Inny. They got 
up a country club at the little inn of Ballymahon, of which 
Goldsmith soon became the oracle and prime wit ; astonishing 
his unlettered associates by his learning, and being considered 
capital at a song and a story. From the rustic conviviality of the 
inn at Ballymahon, and the company which used to assemble 
there, it is surmised that he took some hints in after life for his 
picturing of Tony Lumpkin and his associates : " Dick Muggins, 
the exciseman ; Jack Slang, the horse doctor ; little Aminidab, 
that grinds the music box, and Tom Twist, that spins the pewter 
platter." Nay, it is thought that Tony's drinking song at the 
" Three Jolly Pigeons," was but a revival of one of the convivial 
catches at Ballymahon : 



" Then come put the jorum about, 
And let us be merry and clever. 
Our hearts and our liquors are stout. 

Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever. 
Let some cry of woodcock or hare. 

Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons. 
But of all the gay birds in the air. 

Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 
Toroddle, toroddle, toroll." 



44 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Notwithstanding all these accomplishments and this rural 
popularity, his friends began to shake their heads and shrug 
their shoulders when they spoke of him ; and his brother Henry 
noted with any thing but satisfaction his frequent visits to the 
club at Ballymahon. He emerged, however, unscathed from this 
dangerous ordeal, more fortunate in this respect than his com- 
rade Bryanton ; but he retained throughout life a fondness for 
clubs : often, too, in the course of his checkered career, he looked 
back to this period of rural sports and careless enjoyments, as 
one of the few sunny spots of his cloudy life ; and though he 
ultimately rose to associate with birds of a finer feather, his 
heart would still yearn in secret after the " Three Jolly 
Pigeons." 



GOLDSMITH REJECTED BY THE BISPIOP. 45 



CHAPTER III. 

Goldsmith rejected by the Bishop. — Second sally to see the world. — Takes 
passage for America. — Ship sails without him. — Return on Fiddle-back. — 
A hospitable friend. — The Counsellor. 

The time had now arrived for Groldsmith to apply for orders, and 
he presented himself accordingly before the Bishop of Elphin for 
ordination. We have stated his great objection to clerical life, 
the obligation to wear a black coat ; and, whimsical as it may 
appear, dress seems in fact to have formed an obstacle to his en- 
trance into the church. He had ever a passion for clothing his 
sturdy, but awkward little person in gay colors ; and on this 
solemn occasion, when it was to be supposed his garb would be 
of suitable gravity, he appeared luminously arrayed in scarlet 
breeches ! He was rejected by the bishop : some say for want of 
sufficient studious preparation ; his rambles and frolics with 
Bob Bryanton, and his revels with the club at Ballymahon, 
having been much in the way of his theological studies ; others 
attribute his rejection to reports of his college irregularities, 
which the Bishop had received from his old tyrant Wilder ; but 
those who look into the matter with more knowing eyes, pro- 
nounce the scarlet breeches to have been the fundamental objec- 
tion. " My friends," says Goldsmith, speaking through his 
humorous representative, the " Man in Black " — " my friends were 



46 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



now perfectly satisfied I was undone ; and yet they thouglit it a 
pity for one that had not the least harm in him, and was so very 
good-natured." His uncle Contarine, however, still remained un- 
wavering in his kindness, though much less sanguine in his expec- 
tations. He now looked round for a humbler sphere of action, and 
through his influence and exertions Oliver was received as tutor 
in the family of a Mr. Flinn, a gentleman of the neighborhood. 
The situation was apparently respectable ; he had his seat at the 
table ; and joined the family in their domestic recreations and 
their evening game at cards. There was a servility, however, in 
his position, which was not to his taste : nor did his deference 
for the family increase upon familiar intercourse. He charged a 
member of it with unfair play at cards. A violent altercation 
ensued, which ended in his throwing up his situation as tutor. 
On being paid ofi" he found himself in possession of an unheard 
of amount of money. His wandering propensity and his desire 
to see the world, were instantly in the ascendency. Without 
communicating his plans or intentions to his friends, he procured 
a good horse, and with thirty pounds in his pocket, made his 
second sally forth into the world. 

The worthy niece and housekeeper of the hero of La Mancha 
could not have been more surprised and dismayed at one of the 
Don's clandestine expeditions, than Were the mother and friends 
of Groldsmith when they heard of his mysterious departure. 
Weeks elapsed, and nothing was seen or heard of him. It was 
feared that he had left the country on one of his wandering 
freaks, and his poor mother was reduced almost to despair, when 
one day he arrived at her door almost as forlorn in plight as the 
prodigal son. Of his thirty pounds not a shilling was left ; and, 
instead of the goodly steed on which he had issued forth on his 



RETURN ON FIDDLE-BACK. 47 



errantry, he was mounted on a sorry little pony, which he had 
nicknamed Fiddle-back. As soon as his mother was well assured 
of his safety, she rated him soundly for his inconsiderate con- 
duct. His brothers and sisters, who were tenderly attached to 
him, interfered, and succeeded in mollifying her ire ; and what- 
ever lurking anger the good dame might have, was no doubt 
effectually vanquished by the following whimsical narrative which 
he drew up at his brother's house and dispatched to her : 

" My dear mother, if you will sit down and calmly listen to 
what I say, you shall be fully resolved in every one of those 
many questions you have asked me. I went to Cork and con- 
verted my horse, which you prize so much higher than Fiddle- 
back, into cash, took my passage in a ship bound for America, 
and, at the same time, paid the captain for my freight and all the 
other expenses of my voyage. But it so happened that the wind 
did not answer for three weeks ; and you know, mother, that I 
could not command the elements. My misfortune was, that, 
when the wind served, I happened to be with a party in the 
country, and my friend the captain never inquired after me, but 
set sail with as much indifference as if I had been on board. 
The remainder of my time I employed in the city and its envi- 
rons, viewing every thing curious, and you know no one can 
starve while he has money in his pocket. 

" Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to think 
of my dear mother and friends whom I had left behind me, and 
BO bought that generous beast Fiddle-back, and bade adieu to 
Cork with only five shillings in my pocket. This, to be sure, 
was but a scanty allowance for man and horse towards a journey 
of above a hundred miles ; but I did not despair, for I knew I 
must find friends on the road. 



48 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



" I recollected particularly an old and faithful acquaintance I 
made at college, who had often and earnestly pressed me to spend 
a summer with him, and he lived but eight miles from Cork. 
This circumstance of vicinity he would expatiate on to me with 
peculiar emphasis. ' We shall,' says he, ' enjoy the delights of 
both city and country, and you shall command my stable and my 
purse.' 

" However, upon the way I met a poor woman all in tears, 
who told me her husband had been arrested for a debt he was 
not able to pay, and that his eight children must now starve, 
bereaved as they were of his industry, which had been their only 
.support. I thought myself at home, being not far from my good 
friend's house, and therefore parted with a moiety of all my store ; 
and pray, mother, ought I not have given her the other half 
crown, for what she got would be of little use to her ? However, 
I soon arrived at the mansion of my affectionate friend, guarded 
by the vigilance of a huge mastiff, who flew at me and would have 
torn me to pieces but for the assistance of a woman, whose coun- 
tenance was not less grim than that of the dog ; yet she with 
great humanity relieved me from the jaws of this Cerberus, and 
was prevailed on to carry up my name to her master. 

" Without suffering me to wait long, my old friend, who was 
then recovering from a severe fit of sickness, came down in his 
nightcap, nightgown, and slippers, and embraced me with the 
most cordial welcome, showed me in, and, after giving me a his- 
tory of his indisposition, assured me that he considered himself 
peculiarly fortunate in having under his roof the man he most 
loved on earth, and whose stay with him must, above all things, 
contribute to perfect his recovery. I now repented sorely I had 
not given the poor woman the other half crown, as I thought all 



THE HOSPITABLE FRIEND, 49 



my bills of humanity would be punctually answered by this wor- 
thy man. I revealed to him my whole soul ; I opened to him all 
my distresses ; and freely owned that I had but one half crown 
in my pocket ; but that now, like a ship after weathering out the 
storm, I considered myself secure in a safe and hospitable har- 
Dor. He made no answer, but walked about the room, rubbing 
his hands as one in deep study. This I imputed to the sympa- 
thetic feelings of a tender heart, which increased my esteem for 
him, and, as that increased, I gave the most favorable interpre- 
tation to his silence. I construed it into delicacy of sentiment, 
as if he dreaded to wound my pride by expressing his commis- 
eration in words, leaving his generous conduct to speak for 
itself 

" It now approached six o'clock in the evening ; and as I had 
eaten no breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, my appetite 
for dinner grew uncommonly keen. At length the old woman 
came into the room with two plates, one spoon, and a dirty cloth, 
which she laid upon the table. This appearance, without increas- 
ing my spirits, did not diminish my appetite. My protectress 
soon returned with a small bowl of sago, a small porringer of 
sour milk, a loaf of stale brown bread, and the heel of an old 
cheese all over crawling with mites. My friend apologized that 
his illness obliged him to live on slops, and that better fare was 
not in the house ; observing, at the same time, that a milk diet 
was certainly the most healthful ; and at eight o'clock he again 
recommended a regular life, declaring that for his part he would 
lie down toith tlie lamb and rue ivitJi tlie lark. My hunger was 
at this time so exceedingly sharp that I wished for another slice 
of the loaf, but was obliged to go to bed without even that re- 
freshment. 

3 



50 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



" This lenten entertainment I had received made me resolve 
to depart as soon as possible ; accordingly, next morning, when 
I spoke of going, he did not oppose my resolution : he rather 
commended my design, adding some very sage counsel upon the 
occasion. ' To be sure,' said he, ' the longer you stay away from 
your mother, the more you will grieve her and your other friends ; 
and possibly they are already afflicted at hearing of this foolish 
expedition you have made.' Notwithstanding all this, and with- 
out any hope of softening such a sordid heart, I again renewed 
the tale of my distress, and asking ' how he thought I could tra- 
vel above a hundred miles upon one half crown V I begged to 
borrow a single guinea, which I assured him should be repaid 
with thanks. ' And you know, sir,' said I, ' it is no more than 
I have done for you.' To which he firmly answered, ' Wh}'-, look 
you, Mr. Groldsmith, that is neither here nor there. I have paid 
you all you ever lent me, and this sickness of mine has left me 
bare of cash, But I have bethought myself of a conveyance for you ; 
sell your horse, and I will furnish you a much better one to ride 
on.' I readily grasped at his proposal, and begged to see the 
nag ; on which he led me to his bedchamberj and from under the 
bed he pulled out a stout oak stick. ' Here he is,' said he ; 
' take this in your hand, and it will carry you to your mother's 
with more safety than such a horse as you ride.' I was in doubt, 
when I got it into my hand, whether I should not, in the first 
place, apply it to his pate ; but a rap at the street door made the 
wretch fly to it, and when I returned to the parlor, he introduced 
me, as if nothing of the kind had happened, to the gentleman 
who entered, as Mr. Groldsmith, his most ingenious and worthy 
friend, of whom he had so often heard him speak with rapture. 
I could scarcely compose myself ; and must have betrayed indig- 



CHANCE COURTESIES. 51 



nation in my mien to the stranger, who was a counsellor-at-law 
in the neighborhood, a man of engaging aspect and polite ad- 
dress. 

" After spending an hour, he asked my friend and me to dine 
with him at his house. This I declined at first, as I wished to 
have no farther communication with my hospitable friend ; but 
at the solicitation of both I at last consented, determined as I 
was by two motives ; one, that I was prejudiced in favor of the 
looks and manner of the counsellor ; and the other, that I stood 
in need of a comfortable dinner. And there, indeed, I found 
every thing that I could wish, abundance without profusion, and 
elegance without affectation. In the evening, when my old friend, 
who had eaten very plentifully at his neighbor's table, but talked 
again of lying down with the lamb, made a motion to me for re- 
tiring, our generous host requested I should take a bed with him, 
upon which I plainly told my old friend that he might go home 
and take care of the horse he had given me, but that I should 
never re-enter his doors. He went away with a laugh, leaving 
me to add this to the other little things the counsellor already 
knew of his plausible neighbor. 

" And now, my dear mother, I found sufficient to reconcile 
me to all my follies ; for here I spent three whole days. The 
counsellor had two sweet girls to his daughters, who played en- 
chantingly on the harpsichord ; and yet it was but a melancholy 
pleasure I felt the first time I heard them ; for that being the 
first time also that either of them had touched the instrument 
since their mother's death, I saw the tears in silence trickle down 
their father's cheeks. I every day endeavored to go away, but 
every day was pressed and obliged to stay. On my going, the 
counsellor offered me his purse, with a horse and servant to con- 



52 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



vey me home ; but the latter I declined, and only took a guinea 
to bear my necessary expenses on the road. 

" Oliver Goldsmith. 
" To Mrs. Anne Goldsmith, Ballymahon." 

Such is the story given by the poet-errant of this his second 
sally in quest of adventures. "We cannot but think it was here 
and there touched up a little with the fanciful pen of the future 
essayist, with a view to amuse his mother and soften her vexa- 
tion ; but even in these respects it is valuable as showing the 
early play of his humor, and his happy knack of extracting 
sweets from that worldly experience which to others yields 
nothing but bitterness. 



SALLIES FORTH AS A LAW STUDENT. 53 



CHAPTER IV. 

Sallies forth as a law student. — Stumbles at the outset. — Cousin Jane and the 
valentine. — A family oracle. — Sallies forth as a student of medicine. — 
Hocus-pocus of a boarding-house. — Transformations of a leg of mutton, — 
The mock ghost. — Sketches of Scotland. — Trials of toadyism. — A poet's 
purse for a Continental tour. 

A NEW consultation was held among Goldsmith's friends as to 
his future course, and it was determined he should try the law. 
His uncle Contarine agreed to advance the necessary funds, and 
actually furifished him with fifty pounds, with which he set oflF 
for London, to enter on his studies at the Temple. Unfortu- 
nately, he fell in company at Dublin with a Roscommon acquaint- 
ance, one whose wits had been sharpened about town, who be- 
guiled him into a gambling-house, and soon left him as penniless 
as when he bestrode the redoubtable Fiddle-back. 

He was so ashamed of this fresh instance of gross heedless 
ness and imprudence, that he remained some time in Dublin 
without communicating to his friends his destitute condition 
They heard of it, however, and he was invited back to the coun 
try, and indulgently forgiven by his generous uncle, but less 
readily by his mother, who was mortified and disheartened at 
seeing all her early hopes of him so repeatedly blighted. His 
brother Henry, too, began to lose patience at these successive 



54 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



failures, resulting from tliouglitless indiscretion ; and a quarrel 
took place, which for some time interrupted their usually affection- 
ate intercourse. 

The only home where poor erring Groldsmith still received a 
welcome, was the parsonage of his affectionate forgiving uncle. 
Here he used to talk of literature with the good simple-hearted 
man, and delight him and his daughter with his verses. Jane, 
his early playmate, was now the woman grown ; their intercourse 
was of a more intellectual kind than formerly ; they discoursed 
of poetry and music ; she played on the harpsichord, and he ac- 
companied her with his flute. The music may not have been 
very artistic, as he never performed but by ear ; it had probably 
as much merit as the poetry, which, if we may judge by the fol- 
lowing specimen, was as yet but juvenile : 

TO A YOUNG LADY ON VALENTINE'S DAY, 

WITH THE DRAWING OF A HEART. 

With submission at your shrine. 
Comes a heart your Valentine ; 
From the side where once it grew. 
See it panting flies to you. 
Take it, fair one, to your breast. 
Soothe the fluttering thing to rest ; 
Let the gentle, spotless toy. 
Be your sweetest, greatest joy ; 
Every night when wrapp'd in sleep. 
Next your heart the conquest keep ; 
Or if dreams your fancy move. 
Hear it whisper me and love ; 
Then in pity to the swain. 
Who must heartless else remain. 



THE FAMILY ORACLE. 55 



Soft as gentle dewy show'rs. 
Slow descend on April flow'rs ; 
Soft as gentle riv'lets glide, 
Steal unnoticed to my side ; 
If the gem you have to spare, 
Take your own and place it there. 

If this Valentine was intended for the fair Jane, and express- 
ive of a tender sentiment indulged by the stripling poet, it was 
unavailing ; as not long afterwards she was married to a Mr. 
Lawder. We trust, however, it was but a poetical passion of that 
transient kind which grows up in idleness and exhales itself in 
rhyme. While Oliver was thus piping and poetizing at the par- 
sonage, his uncle Contarine received a visit from Dean Goldsmith 
of Cloyne ; a kind of magnate in the wide, but improvident 
family connection, throughout which his word was law and almost 
gospel. This august dignitary was pleased to discover signs of 
talent in Oliver, and suggested that as he had attempted divinity^ 
and law without success, he should now try physic. The advice 
came from too important a source to be disregarded, and it was 
determined to send him to Edinburgh to commence his studies. 
The Dean having given the advice, added to it, we trust, his 
blessing, but no money ; that was furnished from the scantier 
purses of Goldsmith's brother, his sister (Mrs. Hodson) and his 
ever-ready uncle, Contarine. 

It was in the autumn of 1752 that Goldsmith arrived in 
Edinburgh. His outset in that city came near adding to the list 
of his indiscretions and disasters. Having taken lodgings at hap- 
hazard, he left his trunk there, containing all his worldly effects, 
and sallied forth to see the town. After sauntering about the 
streets until a late hour, he thought of returning home, when, to 



56 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



his confusion, he found he had not acquainted himself with the 
name either of his landlady or of the street in which she lived. 
Fortunately, in the height of his whimsical perplexity, he met 
the cawdy or porter who had carried his trunk, and who now 
served him as a guide. 

He did not remain long in the lodgings in which he had put 
up. The hostess was too adroit at that hocus-pocus of the table 
which often is practised in cheap boarding-houses. No one could 
conjure a single joint through a greater variety of forms. A 
loin of mutton, according to Groldsmith's account, would serve 
him and two fellow-students a whole week.- " A brandered chop 
was served up one day, a fried steak another, collops with onion 
sauce a third, and so on until the fleshy parts were quite con- 
sumed, when finally a dish of broth was manufactured from the 
bones on the seventh day, and the landlady rested from her 
labors." Groldsmith had a good-humored mode of taking things, 
and for a short time amused himself with the shifts and expe- 
dients of his landlady, which struck him in a ludicrous manner ; 
he soon, however, fell in with fellow-students from his own coun- 
try, whom he joined at more eligible quarters. 

He now attended medical lectures, and attached himself to 
an association of students called the Medical Society. He set 
out, as usual, with the bfest intentions, but, as usual, soon fell 
into idle, convivial, thoughtless habits. Edinburgh was indeed a 
place of sore trial for one of his temperament. Convivial meet- 
ings were all the vogue, and the tavern was the universal rally- 
ang-place of good-fellowship. And then Groldsmith's intimacies 
lay chiefly among the Irish students, who were always ready for 
a wild freak and frolic. Among them he was a prime favorite 
and somewhat of a leader, from his exuberance of spirits, his 



THE MOCK GHOST. 57 



vein of humor, and his talent at singing an Irish song and telling 
an Irish story. 

His usual carelessness in money matters attended him. 
Though his supplies from home were scanty and irregular, he 
never could bring himself into habits of prudence and economy ; 
often he was stripped of all his present finances at play ; often 
he lavished them away in fits of unguarded charity or generosity. 
Sometimes among his boon companions he assumed a ludicrous 
swagger in money matters, which no one afterward was more 
ready than himself to laugh at. At a convivial meeting with a 
number of his fellow-students, he suddenly proposed to draw lots 
with any one present which of the two should treat the whole 
party to the play. The moment the proposition had bolted from 
his lips, his heart was in his throat. " To my great though 
secret joy," said he, " they all declined the challenge. Had it 
been accepted, and had I proved the loser, a part of my wardrobe 
must have beejp pledged in order to raise the money." 

At another of these meetings there was an earnest dispute on 
the question of ghosts, some being firm believers in the possibility 
of departed spirits returning to visit their friends and familiar 
haunts. One of the disputants set sail the next day for London, 
but the vessel put back through stress of weather. His return 
was unknown except to one of the believers in ghosts, who con 
certed with him a trick to be played off on the opposite party 
In the evening, at a meeting of the students, the discussion was 
renewed ; and one of the most strenuous opposers of ghosts was 
asked whether he considered himself proof against ocular demon- 
stration ? He persisted in his scoffing. Some solemn process of 
conjuration was performed, and the comrade supposed to be on 

his way to London made his appearance. The effect was fatal. 

3* 



58 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



The unbeliever fainted at the sight, and ultimately went mad. 
We have no account of what share Groldsmith took in this trans- 
action, at which he was present. 

The following letter to his friend Bryanton, contains some of 
Groldsmith's impressions concerning Scotland and its inhabitants, 
and gives indications of that humor which characterized some of 
his later writings. 

" Robert Bryanton^ at BaUyniahon, Ireland. 

" Edinburgh, September 26th, 1753. 
" My dear Bob, 

" How many good excuses (and you know I was ever good at 
an excuse) might I call up to vindicate my past shameful silence. 
I might tell how I wrote a long letter on my first coming hither, 
and seem vastly angry at my not receiving an answer ; I might 
allege that business (with business you know I was always pes- 
tered) had never given me time to finger a pen. But I suppress 
those and twenty more as plausible, and as easily invented, since 
they might be attended with a slight inconvenience of being 
known t» be lies. Let me then speak truth. An hereditary in- 
dolence (I have it from the mother's side) has hitherto prevented 
my writing to you, and still prevents my writing at least twenty- 
five letters more, due to my friends in Ireland. No turn-spit-dog 
gets up into his wheel with more reluctance than I sit down to 
write ; yet no dog ever loved the roast meat he turns better than 
I do hirn I now address. 

" Yet what shall I say now I am entered ? Shall I tire you 
with a description of this unfruitful country ;. where I must lead 
you over their hills all brown with heath, or their valleys scarcely 
able to feed a rabbit ? Man alone seems to be the only creature 



SKETCHES OF SCOTLAND. 59 



who has arrived to the natural size in this poor soil. Every part 
of the country presents the same dismal landscape. No grove, 
nor brook, lend their music to cheer the stranger, or make the 
inhabitants forget their poverty. Yet with all these disadvan- 
tages to call him down to humility, a Scotchman is one of the 
proudest things alive. The poor have pride ever ready to relieve 
them. If mankind should happen to despise them, they are 
masters of their own admiration ; and that they can plentifully 
bestow upon themselves. 

" From their pride and poverty, as I take it, results one ad- 
vantage this country enjoys ; namely, the gentlemen here are 
much better bred than among us. No such character here as 
our fox-hunters ; and they have expressed great surprise when I 
informed them, that some men in Ireland of one thousand pounds 
a year, spend their whole lives in running after a hare, and drink- 
ing to be druuk. Truly if such a being, equipped in his hunting 
dress, came among a circle of Scotch gentry, they would behold 
him with the same astonishment that a countryman does King 
George on horseback. 

" The men here have generally high cheek bones, and are lean 
and swarthy, fond of action, dancing in particular. Now that I 
have mentioned dancing, let me say something of their balls, 
which are very frequent here. When a stranger enters the 
dancing-hall, he sees one end of the room taken up by the ladies, 
who sit dismally in a group by themselves ; — in the other end 
stand their pensive partners that are to be ; — but no more inter 
course between the sexes than there is between two countries at 
war. The ladies indeed may ogle, and the gentlemen sigh ; but 
an embargo is laid on any closer commerce. At length, to inter- 
rupt hostilities, the lady directress, or intendant, or what you 



60 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



will, pitches upon a lady and gentleman to walk a minuet ; which 
they perform with a formality that approaches to despondence. 
After five or six couple have thus walked the gauntlet, all stand 
up to country dances ; each gentleman furnished with a partner 
from the aforesaid lady directress ; so they dance much, say 
nothing, and thus concludes our assembly. I told a Scotch gen- 
tleman that such profound silence resembled the ancient proces- 
sion of the Roman matrons in honor of Ceres ; and the Scotch 
gentleman told me, (and, faith I believe he was right,) that I was 
a very great pedant for my pains. 

" Now I am come to the ladies ; and to show that I love Scot- 
land, and every thing that belongs to so charming a country, I 
insist on it, and will give him leave to break my head that denies 
it — that the Scotch ladies are ten thousand times finer and hand- 
somer than the Irish. To be sure, now, I see your sisters Betty 
and Peggy vastly surprised at my partiality, — but tell them 
flatly, I don't value them — or their fine skins, or eyes, or good 

sense, or , a potato ; — for I say, and will maintain it ; and 

as a convincing proof (I am in a great passion) of what I assert, 
the Scotch ladies say it themselves. But to be less serious ; 
where will you find a language so prettily become a pretty mouth 
as the broad Scotch ? And the women here speak it in its high- 
est purity ; for instance, teach one of your young ladies at home 
to pronounce the " Whoar wull I gong?" with a becoming widen- 
ing of mouth, and I'll lay my life they'll wound every hearer. 

" We have no such character here as a coquet, but alas ! how 
many envious prudes ! Some days ago I walked into my Lord 
Kilcoubry's (don't be surprised, my lord is but a glover),* when 

* William Maclellan, who claimed the title, and whose son succeede'^ in 



SKETCHES OF SCOTLAND. 61 



the Duchess of Hamilton (that fair who sacrificed her beauty to 
her ambition, and her inward peace to a title and gilt equipage) 
passed by in her chariot ; her battered husband, or more pro- 
perly the guardian of her charms, sat by her side. Straight envy 
began, in the shape of no less than three ladies who sat with me, 
to find faults in her faultless form. — ' For my part.' says the first, 
' I think what I always thought, that the Duchess has too much of 
the red in her complexion.' ' Madam, I am of your opinion,' 
says the second ; ' I think her face has a palish cast too much 
on the delicate order.' ' And, let me tell you,' added the third 
lady, whose mouth was puckered up to the size of an issue, ' that 
the Duchess has fine lips, but she wants a mouth.' — At this every 
lady drew up her mouth as if going to pronounce the letter P. 

" But how ill, my Bob, does it become me to ridicule women 
with whom I have scarcely any correspondence ! There are, 'tis 
certain, handsome women here ; and 'tis certain they have hand- 
some men to keep them company. An ugly and poor man is 
society only for himself ; and such society the world lets me enjoy 
in great abundance. Fortune has given you circumstances, and 
nature a person to look charming in the eyes of the fair. Nor 
do I envy my dear Bob such blessings, while I may sit down and 
laugh at the world and at myself — the most ridiculous object in it. 
But you see I am grown downright splenetic, and perhaps the 
fit may continue till I receive an answer to this. I know you 
cannot send me much news from Ballymahon, but such as it is, 
send it all ; every thing you send will be agreeable to me. 

" Has George Conway put up a sign yet ; or John Binley 

establishing the claim in 1773. The father is said to have voted at the elec- 
tion of the sixteen Peers for Scotland ; and to have sold gloves in the lobby 
at this and other public assemblages. 



62 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



left off drinking drams ; or Tom Allen got a new wig ? But I 
leave you to your own choice what to write. While I live, know 
you have a true friend in yours, &c. &c. &c. 

" Oliver Gtoldsmith. 
" P. S. Grive my sincere respects (not compliments, do you 
mind) to your agreeable family, and give my service to my mo- 
ther, if you see her ; for, as you express it in Ireland, I have a 

sneaking kindness for her still. Direct to me, , Student in 

Physic, in Edinburgh." 

Nothing worthy of preservation appeared from his pen during 
his residence in Edinburgh ; and indeed his poetical powers, 
highly as they had been estimated by his friends, had not as yet 
produced any thing of superior merit. He made on one occasion 
a month's excursion to the Highlands. " I set out the first day 
on foot," says he, in a letter to his uncle Contarine, " but an ill- 
natured corn I have on my toe, has for the future prevented that 
cheap mode of travelling ; so the second day I hired a horse, 
about the size of a ram, and he walked away (trot he could not) 
as pensive as his master." 

During his residence in Scotland his convivial talents gained 
him at one time attentions in a high quarter, which, however, he 
had the good sense to appreciate correctly. " I have spent," 
says he, in one of his letters, "more than a fortnight every 
second day at the Duke of Hamilton's ; but it seems they like 
me more as a jester than as a companion, so I disdained so ser- 
vile an employment as unworthy my calling as a physician." 
Here we again find the origin of another passage in his autobio- 
graphy, under the character of the " Man in Black," wherein 
that worthy figures as a flatterer to a great man. " At first," 



TRIALS OF TOADYISM. 63 



says Le, " I was surprised that the situation of a flatterer at a 
great man's table could be thought disagreeable ; there was no 
great trouble in listening attentively when his lordship spoke, 
and laughing when he looked round for applause. This, even 
good manners might have obliged me to perform. I found, how- 
ever, too soon, his lordship was a greater dunce than myself, and 
from that moment flattery was at an end. I now rather aimed at 
setting him right, than at receiving his absurdities with submis- 
sion : to flatter those we do not know is an easy task ; but to 
flatter our intimate acquaintances, all whose foibles are strongly 
in our eyes, is drudgery insupportable. Every time I now 
opened my lips in praise, my falsehood went to my conscience ; 
his lordship soon perceived me to be very unfit for his service : I 
was therefore discharged ; my patron at the same time being 
graciously pleased to observe that he believed I was tolerably 
good-natured, and had not the least harm in me." 

After spending two winters at Edinburgh, Goldsmith pre- 
pared to finish his medical studies on the Continent, for which 
his uncle Contarine agreed to furnish the funds. "I intend," 
said he, in a letter to his uncle, " to visit Paris, where the great 
Farlieim, Petit, and Du Hamel de Monceau instruct their 
pupils in all the branches of medicine. They speak French, and 
consequently I shall have much the advantage of most of my 
countrymen, as I am perfectly acquainted with that language, and 
few who leave Ireland are so. I shall spend the spring and sum- 
mer in Paris, and the beginning of next winter go to Leyden, 
The great Albinus is still alive there, and 'twill be proper to go, 
though only to have it said that we have, studied in so famous a 
university. 

" As I shall not have another opportunity of receiving money 



64 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



from your bounty till my return to Ireland, so I have drawn for 
the last sum that I hope I shall ever trouble you for ; 'tis £20. 
And now, dear Sir, let me here acknowledge the humility of the 
station in which you found me ; let me tell how I was despised 
by most, and hateful to myself Poverty, hopeless poverty, was 
my lot, and Melancholy was beginning to make me her own. 

When you but I stop here, to inquire how your health goes 

on 1 How does my cousin Jenny, and has she recovered her 
late complaint ? How does my poor Jack Goldsmith ? I fear 
his disorder is of such a nature as he won't easily recover. I 
wish, my dear Sir, you would make me happy by another letter 
before I go abroad, for there I shall hardly hear from you. * * 
Grive my — how shall I express, it ? Give my earnest love to Mr. 
and Mrs. Lawder. 

Mrs. Lawder was Jane, his early playmate — the object of his 
valentine — his first poetical inspiration. She had been for some 
time married. 

Medical instruction, it will be perceived, was the ostensible 
motive for this visit to the Continent, but the real one, in all 
probability, was his long-cherished desire to see foreign parts. 
This, however, he would not acknowledge even to himself, but 
sought to reconcile his roving propensities with some grand 
moral purpose. " I esteem the traveller who instructs the heart," 
says he, in one of his subsequent writings, "but despise him 
who only indulges the imagination. A man who leaves home to 
mend himself and others, is a philosopher ; but he who goes from 
country to country, guided by the blind impulse of curiosity, is 
only a vagabond." He,. of course, was to travel as a philosopher, 
and in truth his outfits for a Continental tour were in character. 
" I shall carry just £33 to France," said he, " with good store of 



THE LAST SALLY UPON THE WORLD. 65 



clothes, shirts, &c., and that with economy will suffice." He 
forgot to make mention of his flute, which it will be found had 
occasionally to come in play when economy could not replenish 
his purse, nor philosophy find him a supper. Thus slenderly 
provided with money, prudence or experience, and almost as 
slightly guarded against "hard knocks" as the hero of La 
Mancha, whose head-piece was half iron, half pasteboard, he 
made his final sally forth upon the world ; hoping all things ; 
believing all things : little anticipating the checkered ills in store 
for him ; little thinking when he penned his valedictory letter to 
his good uncle Contarine, that he was never to see him more ; 
never to return after all his wandering to the friend of his 
infancy ; never to revisit his early and fondly-remembered haunts 
at ' sweet Lissoy ' and Ballymahon. 



66 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER V. 

The agreeable fellow-passengers. — Risks from friends picked up by the way- 
side. — Sketches of Holland and the Dutch. — Shifts while a poor student at 
Leyden. — The tulip speculation. — The provident flute. — Sojourn at Paris. 
— Sketch of Voltaire. — Travelling shifts of a philosophic vagabond. 

His usual indiscretion attended Goldsmith at the very out- 
set of his foreign enterprise. He had intended to take shipping 
at Leith for Holland ; but on arriving at that port, he found a 
ship about to sail for Bordeaux, with six agreeable passengers, 
whose acquaintance he had probably made at the inn. He was 
not a man to resist a sudden impulse ; so, instead of embarking 
for Holland, he found himself ploughing the seas on his way to 
the other side of the continent. Scarcely had the ship been two 
days at sea, when she was driven by stress of weather to New- 
castle-upon-Tyne. Here ' of course ' Groldsmith and his agree- 
able fellow-passengers found it expedient to go on shore and 
" refresh themselves after the fatigues of the voyage." ' Of course' 
they frolicked and made merry until a late hour in the evening, 
when, in the midst of their hilarity, the door was burst open, and 
a Serjeant and twelve grenadiers entered with fixed bayonets, and 
took the whole convivial party prisoners. 

It seems that the agreeable companions with whom our green- 
horn had struck up such a sudden intimacy, were Scotchmen in 



SKETCHES OF HOLLAND. 67 



the Prencli service, who had been in Scotland enlisting recruits 
for the French army. 

In vain Groldsmith protested his innocence ; he was marched 
off with his fellow revellers to prison, whence he with difficulty 
obtained his release at the end of a fortnight. With his custom- 
ary facility, however, at palliating his misadventures, he found 
every thing turn out for the best. His imprisonment saved his 
life, for during his detention the ship proceeded on her voyage, 
but was wrecked at the mouth of the G-aronne and all on board 
perished. 

Goldsmith's second embarkation was for Holland direct, and 
in nine days he arrived at Rotterdam, whence he proceeded, 
without any more deviations, to Leyden. He gives a whimsical 
picture, in one of his letters, of the appearance of the Hollanders. 
" The modern Dutchman is quite a different creature from him 
of former times : he in every thing imitates a Frenchman but in 
his easy, disengaged air. He is vastly ceremonious, and is, per- 
haps, exactly what a Frenchman might have been in the reign of 
Louis XIV. Such are the better bred. But the downright 
Hollander is one of the oddest figures in nature. Upon a lank 
head of hair he wears a half-cocked narrow hat, laced with black 
riband ; no coat, but seven waistcoats and nine pair of breeches, 
so that his hips reach up almost to his armpits. This well- 
clothed vegetable is now fit to see company or make love. But 
what a pleasing creature is the object of his appetite ! why, she 
wears a large fur cap, with a deal of Flanders lace ; and for 
every pair of breeches he carries, she puts on two petticoats. 

" A Dutch lady burns nothing about her phlegmatic admirer 
but his tobacco. You must know, sir, every woman carries in 
her hand a stove of coals, which, when she sits, she snugs under 



68 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



her petticoats, and at this chimney dozing Strephon lights his 
pipe." 

In the same letter he contrasts Scotland and Holland. 
" There hills and rocks intercept every prospect ; here it is all a 
continued plain. There you might see a well-dressed- Duchess 
issuing from a dirty close, and hero a dirty Dutchman inhabiting 
a palace. The Scotch may be compared to a tulip, planted in 
dung ; but I can never see a Dutchman in his own house, but I 
think of a magnificent Egyptian temple dedicated to an ox." 

The country itself awakened his admiration. " Nothing," 
said he, " can equal its beauty ; wherever I turn my eyes, fine 
houses, elegant gardens, statues, grottoes, vistas, present them- 
selves ; but when you enter their towns you are charmed beyond 
description. No misery is to be seen here ; every one is usefully 
employed." And again, in his noble description in " The Trav- 
eUer ;" 

" To men of other minds my fancy flies, 
Imbosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. 
Methinks her patient sons before me stand. 
Where the broad ocean leans against the land. 
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, 
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. 
Onward, methinks, and diligently slow. 
The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ; 
Spreads its long arms amid the watery roar. 
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore. 
While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile. 
Sees an amphibious world before him smile ; 
The slow canal, the yellow blossom'd vale. 
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail. 
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, 
A new creation rescued from his reign." 



SHIFTS AS A STUDENT. 



He remained about a year at Leyden, attending the lectures 
of Gaubius on chemistry and Albinus on anatomy ; though his 
studies are said to have been miscellaneous, and directed to litei-- 
ature rather than science. The thirty-three pounds with which 
he had set out on his travels were soon consumed, and he was 
put to many a shift to meet his expenses until his precarious re- 
mittances should arrive. He had a good friend on these occa- 
sions in a fellow-student and countryman, named Ellis, who 
afterwards rose to eminence as a physician. He used fre- 
quently to loan small sums to Goldsmith, which were always 
scrupulously paid. Ellis discovered the innate merits of the 
poor awkward student, and used to declare in after life that 
it was a common remark in Leyden, that in all the peculiarities 
of Goldsmith, an elevation of mind was to be noted ; a philo- 
sophical tone and manner : the feelings of a gentleman, and the 
language and information of a scholar." 

Sometimes, in his emergencies. Goldsmith undertook to teach 
the English language. It is true he was ignorant of the Dutch, 
but he had a smattering of the French, picked up among the 
Irish priests at Ballymahon. He depicts his whimsical embar- 
rassment in this respect, in his account in the Vicar of Wake- 
field of i\xe 2iJ''i^oso2)hical vagabond who went to Holland to teach 
the natives English, without knowing a word of their own lan- 
guage. Sometimes, when sorely pinched, and sometimes, per- 
haps, when flush, he resorted to the gambling tables, which in 
those days abounded in Holland. His good friend Ellis repeat- 
edly warned him against this unfortunate propensity, but in vain. 
It brought its own cure, or rather its own punishment, by strip- 
ping him of every shilling. 

Ellis once more stepped in to his relief with a true Irishman's 



to OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



generosity, Tbut with more eonsiderateness than generally charac- 
terizes an Irishman, for he only granted pecuniary aid on condi- 
tion of his quitting the sphere of danger. Goldsmith gladly 
consented to leave Holland, being anxious to visit other parts. 
He intended to proceed to Paris and pursue his studies there, 
and was furnished by his friend with money for the journey. 
Unluckily, he rambled into the garden of a florist just before 
quitting Leyden. The tulip mania was still prevalent in Hol- 
land, and some species of that splendid flower brought immense 
prices. In wandering through the garden Groldsmith recollected 
that his uncle Contarine was a tulip fancier. The thought sud- 
denly struck him that here was an opportunity of testifying, in 
a delicate manner, his sense of that generous uncle's past kind- 
nesses. In an instant his hand was in his pocket ; a number of 
choice and costly tulip-roots were purchased and packed up for 
Mr. Contarine ; and it was not until he had paid for them that 
he bethought himself that he had spent all the money borrowed 
for his travelling expenses. Too proud, however, to give up his 
journey, and too shamefaced to make another appeal to his friend's 
liberality, he determined to travel on foot, and depend upon 
chance and good luck for the means of getting forward ; and it is 
said that he actually set off on a tour of the Continent, in 
February, 1775, with but one spare shirt, a flute, and a single 
guinea. 

" Blessed," says one of his biographers, " with a good consti- 
tution, an adventurous spirit, and with that thoughtless, or, 
perhaps, happy disposition which takes no care for to-morrow, he 
continued his travels for a long time in spite of innumerable pri- 
vations." In his amusing narrative of the adventures of a 
" Philosophic Vagabond " in the " Vicar of Wakefield," we find 



SOJOURN AT PARIS. 71 



shadowed out the expedients he pursued. " I had some know- 
ledge of music, with a tolerable voice ; I now turned what was 
once my amusement into a present means of subsistence. I 
passed among the harmless peasants of Flanders, and among 
such of the French as were poor enough to be very merry, for I 
ever found them sprightly in proportion to their wants. When- 
ever I approached a peasant's house towards nightfall, I played 
one of my merriest tunes, and that procured me not only a 
lodging, but subsistence for the next day ; but in truth I must 
own, whenever I attempted to entertain persons of a higher rank, 
they always thought my performance odious, and never made me 
any return for my endeavors to please them." 

At Paris he attended the chemical lectures of Kouelle, then 
in great vogue, where he says he witnessed as bright a circle of 
beauty as graced the court of Versailles. His love of theatri- 
cals, also, led him to attend the performances of the celebrated 
actress Mademoiselle Clairon, with which he was greatly delighted. 
He seems to have looked upon the state of society with the eye 
of a philosopher, but to have read the signs of the times with 
the prophetic eye of a poet. In his rambles about the environs 
of Paris, he was struck with the immense quantities of game 
running about almost in a tame state ; and saw in those costly and 
rigid preserves for the amusement and luxury of the privileged 
few, a sure " badge of the slavery of the people." This slavery he 
predicted was drawing towards a close. " When I consider that 
these parliaments, the members of which are all created by the 
court, and the presidents of which can only act by immediate 
direction, presume even to mention privileges and freedom, who 
till of late received directions from the throne with implicit 
humility ; when this is considered, I cannot help fancying that 



72 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



the genius of Freedom has entered that kingdom in disguise. If 
they have but three weak monarchs more successively on the 
throne, the mask will be laid aside, and the country will certainly 
once more be free." Events have testified to the sage forecast of 
the poet. 

During a brief sojourn in Paris, he appears to have gained 
access to valuable society, and to have had the honor and pleasure 
of making the acquaintance of Voltaire ; of whom, in after years, 
he wrote a memoir. " As a companion," says he, " no man ever 
exceeded him when he pleased to lead the conversation ; which, 
however, was not always the case. In company which he either 
disliked or despised, few could be more reserved than he ; but 
when he was warmed in discourse, and got over a hesitating man- 
ner, which sometimes he was subject to, it was rapture to hear him. 
His meager visage seemed insensibly to gather beauty : every 
muscle in it had meaning, and his eye beamed with unusual 
brightness. The person who writes this memoir," continues he, 
" remembers to have seen him in a select company of wits of both 
sexes at Paris, when the subject happened to turn upon English 
taste and learning. Fontenelle, (then nearly a hundred years 
old,) who was of the party, and who being unacquainted with the 
language or authors of the country he undertook to condemn, 
with a spirit truly vulgar began to revile both. Diderot, who 
liked the English, and knew something of their literary preten- 
sions, attempted to vindicate their poetry and learning, but with 
unequal abilities. The company quickly perceived that Fontenelle 
was superior in the dispute, and were surprised at the silence 
which Voltaire had preserved all the former part of the night, 
particularly as the conversation happened to turn upon one of 
his favorite topics. Fontenelle continued his triumph until about 



SKETCH OF VOLTAIRE. 73 



twelve o'clock, when Voltaire appeared at last roused from his 
reverie. His whole frame seemed animated. He began his de- 
fence with the utmost defiance mixed with spirit, and now and 
then let fall the finest strokes of raillery upon his antagonist ; 
and his harangue lasted till three in the morning. I must con- 
fess, that, whether from national partiality, or from the elegant 
sensibility of his manner, I never was so charmed, nor did I ever 
remember so absolute a victory as he gained in this dispute." 
Goldsmith's ramblings took him into Germany and Switzerland, 
from which last mentioned country he sent to his brother in Ire- 
land the first brief sketch, afterwards amplified into his poem of 
the "Traveller." 

At Geneva he became travelling tutor to a mongrel young 
gentleman, son of a London pawnbroker, who had been suddenly 
elevated into fortune and absurdity by the death of an uncle. 
The youth, before setting up for a gentleman, had been an attor- 
ney's apprentice, and was an^ arrant pettifogger in money matters. 
Never were, two beings more illy assorted than he and Goldsmith. 
We may form an idea of the tutor and the pupil from the follow- 
ing extract from the narrative of the " Philosophic Vagabond." 

" I was to be the young gentleman's governor, but with a pro- 
viso that he should always be permitted to govern himself My 
pupil, in fact, understood the art of guiding in money concerns 
much better than I. He was heir to a fortune of about two 
hundred thousand pounds, left him by an uncle in the West 
Indies ; and his guardians, to qualify him for the management of 
it, had bound him apprentice to an attorney. Thus avarice was 
his prevailing passion : all his questions on the road were, how 
money might be saved — which was the least expensive course of 
travel — whether any thing could be bought that would turn to 

4 



74 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



account when disposed of again in London ? Sucli curiosities on 
the way as could be seen for nothing, he was ready enough to 
look at ; but if the sight of them was to be paid for, he usually 
asserted that he had been told that they were not worth seeing. 
He never paid a bill that he would not observe how amazingly 
expensive travelling was : and all this though not yet twenty-one." 

In this sketch Groldsmith undoubtedly shadows forth his an- 
noyances as travelling tutor to this concrete young gentleman, 
compounded of the pawnbroker, the pettifogger, and the West 
Indian heir, with an overlaying of the city miser. They had 
continual difficulties on all points of expense until they reached 
Marseilles, where both were glad to separate. 

Once more on foot, but freed from the irksome duties of 
' bear leader,' and with some of his pay, as tutor, in his pocket, 
Groldsmith continued his half vagrant peregrinations through 
part of France and Piedmont, and some of the Italian States. 
He had acquired, as has been showp, a habit of shifting along 
and living by expedients, and a new one presented itself in Italy. 
" My skill in music," says he, in the Philosophic Vagabond, 
" could avail me nothing in a country where every peasant was a 
better musician than I ; but by this time I had acquired another 
talent, which answered my purpose as well, and this was a skill 
in disputation. In all the foreign universities and convents 
there are, upon certain days, philosophical theses maintained 
against every adventitious disputant : for which, if the champion 
opposes with any dexterity, he can claim a gratuity in money, a 
dinner, and a bed for one night." Though a poor wandering 
scholar, his reception in these learned piles was as free from hu- 
miliation as in the cottages of the peasantry. " With the mem- 
bers of these establishments," said he, " I could converse on 



TRAVELLING SHIFTS. 75 



topics of literature, and then I ahoays forgot the meanness of my 
drcum^stances. ' ' 

At Padua, where he remained some months, he is said to have 
taken his medical degree. It is probable he was brought to a 
pause in this city by the illness of his uncle Contarine ; who had 
hitherto assisted him in his wanderings by occasional, though, of 
course, slender remittances. Deprived of this source of supplies, 
he wrote to his friends in Ireland, and especially to his brother- 
in-law, Hodson, describing his destitute situation. His letters 
brought him neither money nor reply. It appears, from subse- 
quent correspondence, that his brother-in-law actually exerted 
himself to raise a subscription for his assistance among his rela- 
tives, friends and acquaintance, but without success. Their faith 
and hope in him were most probably at an end ; as yet he had 
disappointed them at every point, he had given none of the an- 
ticipated proofs of talent, and they were too poor to support 
what they may have considered the wandering propensities of a 
heedless spendthrift. 

Thus left to his own precarious resources. Goldsmith gave 
up all further wandering in Italy, without visiting the south, 
though Rome and Naples must have held out powerful attractions 
to one of his poetical cast. Once more resuming his pilgrim 
staff, he turned his face toward England, " walking along from 
city to city, examining mankind more nearly, and seeing both 
sides of the picture." In traversing France his flute — his magic 
flute ! — was once more in requisition, as we may conclude, by the 
following passage in his Traveller : 

" Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease. 
Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please. 



76 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



How often have I led thy sportive choir 
With tuneless pipe beside the murmuring Loire ! 
Where shading elms along the margin grew, 
And freshened from the wave the zephyr flew ; 
And haply though my harsh note falt'ring still. 
But mocked all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill ; 
Yet would the village praise my wondrous power. 
And dance forgetful of the noontide hour. 
Alike all ages : Dames of ancient days 
Have led their children through the mirthftil maze, 
And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore. 
Has frisk'd beneath the burden of three-score." 



LAUNCH UPON LONDON. 77 



CHAPTER VI. 

Landing in England. — Shifts of a man without money. — The pestle and 
mortar. — Theatricals in a barn. — Launch upon London. — A city night 
scene. — Struggles with penury. — Miseries of a tutor. — A doctor in the 
suburb. — Poor practice and second-hand finery. — A tragedy in embryo. — 
Project of the written mountains. 

After two years spent in roving about the continent, " pursuing 
novelty," as he said, " and losing content," Goldsmith landed at 
Dover early in 1756. He appears to have had no definite plan 
of action. The death of his uncle Contarine, and the neglect of 
his relatives and friends to reply to his lettei's, seem to have pro- 
duced in him a temporai-y feeling of loneliness and destitution, 
and his only thought was to get to London, and throw himself 
upon the world. But how was he to get there ? His purse was 
■empty. England was to him as completely a foreign land as any 
part of the continent, and where on earth is a penniless stranger 
more destitute 1 His flute and his philosophy were no longer of 
any avail ; the English boors cared nothing for music ; there 
were no convents ; and as to the learned and the clergy, not one 
of them would give a vagrant scholar a supper and night's lodg- 
ing for the best thesis that ever was argued. " You may easily 
imagine," says he, in a subsequent letter to his brother-in-law, 
"what difficulties I had to encounter, left as I was without 
friends, recommendations, money, or impudence, and that in a 



78 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



country where being born an Irishman was sufficient to keep me 
unemployed. Many, in such circumstances, would have had 
recourse to the friar's cord or the suicide's halter. But, with all 
my follies, I had principle to resist the one, and resolution to 
combat the other." 

He applied at one place, we are told, for employment in the 
shop of a country apothecary ; but all his medical science ga- 
thered in foreign universities could not gain him the management 
of a pestle and mortar. He even resorted, it is said, to the stage 
as a temporary expedient, and j&gured in low comedy at a country 
town in Kent. This accords with his last shift of the Philo- 
sophic Vagabond, and with the knowledge of country theatricals 
displayed in his " Adventures of a Strolling Player," or may be 
a story suggested by them. All this part of his career, however, 
in which he must have trod the lowest paths of humility, are only 
to be conjectured from vague traditions, or scraps of autobi- 
ography gleaned from his miscellaneous writings. 

At length we find him launched on the great metropolis, or 
rather drifting about its streets, at night, in the gloomy month 
of February, with but a few half-pence in his pocket. The 
Deserts of Arabia are not more dreary and inhospitable than 
the streets of London at svich a time, and to a stranger in 
such a plight. Do we want a picture as an illustration ? We have 
it in his own works, and furnished, doubtless, from his own ex- 
perience. 

" The clock has just struck two ; what a gloom hangs all 
around ! no sound is heard but of the chiming clock, or the distant 
watch-dog. How few appear in those streets, which but some 
few hours ago were crowded ! But who are those who make the 
streets their couch, and find a short repose from wretchedness at 



MISERIES OF A TUTOR. 79 



the doors of the opulent ? They are strangers, wanderers, and 
orphans, whose circumstances are too humble to expect redress, 
and whose distresses are too great even for pity. Some are with- 
out the covei'ing even of rags, and others emaciated with disease ; 
the world has disclaimed them ; society turns its back upon their 
distress, and has given them up to nakedness and hunger. These 
poor shivering females have once seen haj)pier days, atid been flat- 
tered into beatity. They are now turned out to meet the severity 
of winter. Perhaps now, lying at the doors of their betrayers, 
they sue to wretches whose hearts are insensible, or debauchees 
who may curse, but will not relieve them. 

" Why, why was I born a man, and yet see the sufferings of 
wretches I cannot relieve ! Poor houseless creatures ! The 
world will give you reproaches, but will not give you relief" 

Poor houseless Goldsmith ! we may here ejaculate — to what 
shifts he must have been driven to find shelter and sustenance 
for himself in this his first venture into London ! Many years 
afterwards, in the days of his social elevation, he startled a polite 
circle at Sir Joshua Reynolds's by humorously dating an anec- 
dote about the time he " lived among the beggars of Axe Lane." 
Such may have been the desolate quarters with which he was 
fain to content himself when thus adrift upon the town, with but 
a few half-pence in his pocket- 

The first authentic trace we have of him in this new part of 
his career, is filling the situation of an usher to a school, and 
even this employ he obtained with some difficulty, after a refer- 
ence for a character to his friends in the University of Dublin. 
In the Vicar of Wakefield he makes Greorge Primrose undergo 
a whimsical catechism concerning the requisites for an usher. 
" Have you been bred apprentice to the business ?" " No." 



80 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



" Then you won't do for a school. Can you dress the hoys' 
hair?" " No." '• Thau you won't do for a school. Can you. lie 
three in a bed ?" " No." " Then you will never do for a school. 
Have you a good stomach ?" " Yes." '' Then you will by no 
means do for a school. I haye been an usher in a boarding 
school, myself, and may I die of an anodyne necklace, but I had 
rather be uuder-turnkey in Newgate. I was up early and late : 
I was browbeat by the master, hated for my ugly face by the mis- 
tress, worried by the boys." 

Goldsmith remained but a short time in this situation, and 
to the mortifications experienced there, we doiibtless owe the pic- 
turings given in his writings of the hardships of an usher's life. 
" He is generally," says he, " the laughing-stock of the school. 
Every trick is played upon him ; the oddity of his manner, his 
dress, or his language, is a fund of eternal ridicule ; the master 
himself now and then cannot avoid joining in the laugh ; and the 
poor wretch, eternally resenting this ill usage, lives in a state of 

war with all the family." "He is obliged, perhaps, to sleep in 

the same bed with the French teacher, who disturbs him for an 
hour every night in papering and filleting his hair, and stinks 
worse than a carrion with his rancid pomatums, when he lays his 
head beside him on the bolster." 

His nest shift was as assistant in the laboratory of a chemist 
near Fish-street Hill. After remaining here a few months, he 
heard that Dr. Sleigh, who had been his friend and fellow- 
student at Edinburgh, was in London. Eager to meet with 
a friendly face in this land of strangers, he immediately called 
on him ; '■ but though it was Sunday, and it is to be supposed 
I was in my best clothes, Sleigh scarcely knew me — such is 
the tax the unfortunate pay to poverty. However, when he 



A DOCTOR IN THE SUBURB. 81 



did recollect me, I found his heart as warm as ever, and lie 
shared his purse and friendship with me during his continuance 
in London." 

Through the advice and assistance of Dr. Sleigh, he now com- 
menced the practice of medicine, but in a small way, in Bank- 
side, Southwark, and chiefly among the poor ; for he wanted the 
figure, address, polish, and management, to succeed among the 
rich. His old schoolmate and college companion, Beatty, who 
used to aid him with his purse at the university, met him about 
this time, decked out in the tarnished finery of a second-hand 
suit of green and gold, with a shirt and neckcloth of a fort- 
night's wear. 

Poor Goldsmith endeavored to assume a prosperous air in 
the eyes of his early associate. " He was practising physic," he 
said, " and doing very ivcll /" At this moment poverty was 
pinching him to the bone in spite of his practice and his dirty 
finery. His fees were necessarily small, and ill paid, and he was 
fain to seek some precarious assistance from his pen. Here 
his quondam fellow-student. Dr. Sleigh, was again of service, 
introducing him to some of the booksellers, who gave him occa- 
sional, though starveling, employment. According to tradition, 
however, his most efficient patron just now, was a journeyman 
printer, one of his poor patients of Bankside ; who had formed 
a good opinion of his talents, and perceived his poverty and his 
literary shifts. The publisher was in the employ of Mr. Samuel 
Bichardson, the author of Pamela, Clarissa, and Sir Charles 
Grandison ; who combined the novelist and the publisher, and 
was in flourishing circumstances. Through the journeyman's 
intervention Goldsmith is said to have become acquainted with 
Richardson, who employed him as reader and corrector of the 



82 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



press, at his printing establishment in Salisbury Court ; an occu- 
pation which he alternated with his medical duties. 

Being admitted occasionally to Richardson's parlor, he began 
to form literary acquaintances, among whom the most important 
was Dr. Young, the author of Night Thoughts, a poem in the 
height of fashion. It is not probable, however, that much famil- 
iarity took place at the time between the literary lion of the 
day and the poor ^sculapius of Bankside, the humble corrector 
of the press. Still the communion with literary men had its 
effect to set his imagination teeming. Dr. Farr, one of his 
Edinburgh fellow-students, who was at London about this time, 
attending the hospitals and lectures, gives us an amusing ac- 
count of Goldsmith in his literary character. 

" Early in January he called upon me one morning before I 
was up, and, on my entering the room, I recognized my old ac- 
quaintance, dressed in a rusty, full-trimmed black suit, with his 
pockets fall of papers, which instantly reminded me of the poet 
in Grarrick's farce of Lethe. After we had finished our break- 
fast, he drew from his pocket part of a tragedy, which he said he 
had brought for my correction. In vain I pleaded inability, 
when he began to read ; and every part on which I expressed a 
doubt as to the propriety was immediately blotted out. I then 
most earnestly pressed him not to trust to my judgment, but to 
take the opinion of persons better qualified to decide on dramatic 
compositions. He now told me he had submitted his produc- 
tion, so far as he had written, to Mr. Richardson, the author of 
Clarissa, on which I peremptorily declined ofi'ering another criti- 
cism on the performance." 

From the graphic description given of him by Dr. Farr, it 
will be perceived that the tarnished finery of green and gold had 



A TRAGEDY IN EMBRYO. 83 

been succeeded by a professional suit of black, to which, we are 
told, were added the wig and cane indispensable to medical doc- 
tors in those days. The coat was a second-hand one, of rusty 
velvet, with a patch on the left breast, which he adroitly covered 
with his three-cornered hat during his medical visits ; and we 
have an amusing anecdote of his contest of courtesy with a pa- 
tient who persisted in endeavoring to relieve him from the hat, 
which only made him press it more devoutly to his heart. 

Nothing further has ever been heard of the tragedy men- 
tioned by Dr. Farr ; it was probably never completed. The 
same gentleman speaks of a strange Quixotic scheme which Gold- 
smith had in contemplation at the time, " of going to decipher 
the inscriptions on the written inountains^ though he was alto- 
gether ignorant of Arabic, or the language in which they might 
be supposed to be written. " The salary of three hundred 
pounds," adds Dr. Farr, " which had been left for the purpose, 
was the temptation." This was probably one of many dreamy 
projects with which his fervid brain was apt to teem. On such 
subjects he was prone to talk vaguely and magnificently, but 
inconsiderately, from a kindled imagination rather than a well- 
instructed judgment. He had always a great notion of expedi- 
tions to the East, and wonders to be seen and effected in the 
oriental countries. 



84 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Life of a pedagogue. — Kindness to schoolboys — pertness in return. — Expensive 
charities. — The Griffiths and the " Monthly Review." — Toils of a literary 
hack. — Rupture with the Griffiths. 

Among the most cordial of Groldsmitli's intimates in London 
during this time of precarious struggle, were certain of his 
former fellow-students in Edinburgh. One of these was the son 
of a Dr. Milner, a dissenting minister, who kept a classical school 
of eminence at Peckham, in Surrey. Young Milner had a favora- 
ble opinion of Groldsmith's abilities and attainments, and cherished 
for him that good will which his genial nature seems ever to have 
inspired among Bis school and college associates. His father 
falling ill, the young man negotiated with Groldsmith to take tem- 
porary charge of the school. The latter readily consented ; for 
he was discouraged by the slow growth of medical reputation and 
practice^ and as yet had no confidence in the coy smiles of the 
muse. Laying by his wig and cane, therefore, and once more 
wielding the ferule, he resumed the character of the pedagogue, 
and for some time reigned as vicegerent over the academy at 
Peckham. He appears to have been well treated by both Dr. 
Milner and his wife : and became a favorite with the scholars 
from his easy, indulgent good nature. He mingled in their 
sports ; told them droll stories ; played on the flute for their 



EXPENSIVE CHARITIES. 85 



amusement, and spent his money in treating them to sweetmeats 
and other schoolboy dainties. His familiarity was sometimes 
carried too far ; he indulged in boyish pranks and practical 
jokes, and drew upon himself retorts in kind, which, however, he 
bore with great good humor. Once, indeed, he was touched to 
the quick by a piece of schoolboy pertness. After playing on the 
flute, he spoke with enthusiasm of music, as delightful in itself, 
and as a valuable accomplishment for a gentleman, whereupon a 
youngster, with a glance at his ungainly person, wished to know 
if he considered himself a gentleman. Poor Goldsmith, feelingly 
alive to the awkwardness of his appearance and the humility of 
his situation, winced at this unthinking sneer, which long rankled 
in his mind. 

As usual, while in Dr. Milner's employ, his benevolent feel- 
ings were a heavy tax upon his purse, for he never could resist a 
tale of distress, and was apt to be fleeced by every sturdy beg- 
gar ; so that, between his charity and his munificence, he was 
generally in advance of his slender salary. " You had better, 
Mr. Goldsmith, let me take care of your money," said Mrs. Mil- 
ner one day, " as I do for some of the young gentlemen." — " In 
truth, madam, there is equal need !" was the good-humored 
reply. 

Dr. Milner was a man of some literary pretensions, and 
wrote occasionally for the " Monthly Review," of which a booksel- 
ler, by the name of Griffiths, was proprietor. This work was an 
advocate for Whig principles, and had been in prosperous exist- 
ence for nearly eight years. Of late, however, periodicals had 
multiplied exceedingly, and a formidable Tory rival had started 
up in the " Critical Review^'' published by Archibald Hamilton, a 
bookseller, and aided by the powerful and popular pen of Dr. 



86 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Smollett. Grriffiths was obliged to recruit his forces. While so 
doing he met Groldsmith, a humble occupant of a seat at Dr. 
Milner's table, and was struck with remarks on men and books, 
which fell from him in the course of conversation. He took 
occasion to sound him privately as to his inclination and capa- 
city as a reviewer, and was furnished by him with specimens 
of his literary and critical talents. They proved satisfactory. 
The consequence was that Groldsmith once more changed his 
mode of life, and in April, 1757, became a contributor to the 
" Monthly Review," at a small fixed salary, with board and 
lodging : and accordingly took up his abode with Mr. Grriffiths, at 
the sign of the Dunciad, Paternoster Row. As usual we trace 
this phase of his fortunes in his semi-fictitious writings ; his 
sudden transmutation of the pedagogue into the author, being 
humorously set forth in the case of ' Grsorge Primrose,' in the 
"Vicar of Wakefield." " Come," says Greorge's adviser, "I see 
you are a lad of spirit and some learning ; what do think of com- 
mencing author like me ? You have read in books, no doubt, of 
men of genius starving at the trade : at present I'll show you 
forty very dull fellows about town that live by it in opulence. 
All honest, jog-trot men, who go on smoothly and dully, and 
write history and politics, and are praised : men, sir, who had 
they been bred cobblers, would all their lives only have mended 
shoes, but never made them." "Finding" (says George) "that 
there was no great degree of gentility affixed to the character of 
an usher, I resolved to accept his proposal ; and, having the highest 
respect for literature, hailed the antiqua mater of Grrub-street 
with reverence. I thought it my glory to pursue a track which 
Dryden and Otway trod before me." Alas, Dryden struggled 
with indigence all his days ; and Otway, it is said, fell a victim 



A LITERARY HACK. 87 



to famine in his thirty-fifth year, being strangled by a roll of 
bread, which he devoured with the voracity of a starving man. 

In Goldsmith's experience the track soon proved a thorny 
one. Griffiths was a hard business man, of shrewd, worldly good 
sense, but little refinement or cultivation. He meddled or 
rather muddled with literature, too, in a business way, altering 
and modifying occasionally the writings of his contributors, and 
in this he was aided by his wife, who, according to Smollett, was 
" an antiquated female critic and a dabbler in the ' Review.' " Such 
was the literary vassalage to which Goldsmith had unwarily sub- 
jected himself A diurnal drudgery was imposed on him, irk- 
some to his indolent habits, and attended by circumstances 
humiliating to his pride. He had to write daily from nine 
o'clock until two, and often throughout the day ; whether in the 
vein or not, and on subjects dictated by his task-master, however 
foreign to his taste ; in a word, he was treated as a mere literary 
hack. But this was not the worst ; it was the critical supervision 
of Griffiths and his wife, which grieved him : the " illiterate, 
bookselling Griffiths," as Smollett called them, " who presumed to 
revise, alter and amend the articles contributed to their ' Re- 
view.' Thank heaven," crowed Smollett, " the ' Critical Review ' 
is not written under the restraint of a bookseller and his wife. 
Its principal writers are independent of each other, unconnected 
with booksellers and unawed by old women !" 

This literary vassalage, however, did not last long. The 
bookseller became more and more exacting. He accused his 
hack writer of idleness ; of abandoning his writing-desk and 
literary workshop at an early hour of the day ; and of assuming 
a tone and manner above his situation. Goldsmith, in return, 
charged him with impertinence \ his wife, with meanness and 



88 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 

parsimony in her household treatment of him, and both of literary 
meddling and marring. The engagement was broken off at the 
end of five months, by mutual consent, and without any violent 
rupture, as it will be found they afterwards had occasional deal- 
ings with each other. 

Though Groldsmith was now nearly thirty years of age, he 
had produced nothing to give him a decided reputation. He 
was as yet a mere writer for bread. The articles he had con- 
tributed to the " Review " were anonymous, and were never 
avowed by him. They have since been, for the most part, ascer- 
tained ; and though thrown off hastily, often treating on subjects 
of temporary interest, and marred by the G-riffith interpolations, 
they are still characterized by his sound, easy good sense, and the 
genial graces of his style. Johnson observed that Groldsmith's 
genius flowered late ; he should have said it flowered early, but 
was late in bringing its fruit to maturity. 



NEWBERY, OF PICTURE-BOOK MEMORY. 89 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Newbery, of picture-book memory. — How to keep up appearances. — Miseries 
of authorship. — A poor relation. — Letter to Hodson. 

Being now known in the publishing world, Goldsmith began to 
find casual employment in various quarters ; among others he 
wrote occasionally for the Literary Magazine, a production set 
on foot by Mr. John Newbery, bookseller, St. Paul's Church- 
yard, renowned in nursery literature throughout the latter half 
of the last century for his picture-books for children. Newbery 
was a worthy, intelligent, kind-hearted man, and a seasonable, 
though cautious friend to authors, relieving them with small 
loans when in pecuniary difl&culties, though always taking care 
to be well repaid by the labor of their pens. Goldsmith intro- 
duces him in a humorous yet friendly manner in his novel of 
the Vicar of Wakefield. " This person was no other than the 
philanthropic bookseller in St. Paul's Churchyard, who has writ- 
ten so many little books for children ; he called himself their 
friend ; but he was the friend of all mankind. He was no 
sooner alighted but he was in haste to be gone ; for he was 
ever on business of importance, and was at that time actually 
compiling materials for the history of one Mr. Thomas Trip. 
I immediately recollected this good-natured man's red-pimpled 
face." 



90 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Besides his literary job work, Goldsmith also resumed his 
medical practice, but with very trifling success. The scantiness 
of his purse still obliged him to live in obscure lodgings some- 
where in the vicinity of Salisbury Square, Fleet-street ; but his 
extended acquaintance and rising imjjortance caused him to con- 
sult appearances. He adopted an expedient, then very common, 
and still practised in London among those who have to tread the 
narrow path between pride and poverty ; while he burrowed in 
lodgings suited to his means, he " hailed," as it is termed, from 
the Temple Exchange Coflee-house near Temple Bar. Here 
he received his medical calls ; hence he dated his letters, and 
here he passed much of his leisure hours, conversing with the 
frequenters of the place. " Thirty pounds a year," said a poor 
Irish painter, who understood the art of shifting, " is enough to 
enable a man to live in London without being contemptible. 
Ten pounds will find him in clothes and linen ; he can live in 
a garret on eighteen pence a week ; hail from a coffee-house, 
where, by occasionally spending threepence, he may pass some 
hours each day in good company ; he may breakfast on bread 
and milk for a penny ; dine for sixpence ; do without supper ; and 
on clean-shirt-day he may go abroad and pay visits." 

Groldsmith seems to have taken a leaf from this poor devil's 
manual in respect to the coffee-house at least. Indeed, coffee- 
houses in those days were the resorts of wits and literati ; 
where the topics of the day were gossiped over, and the affairs 
of literature and the drama discussed and criticised. In this 
way he enlarged the circle of his intimacy, which now embraced 
several names of notoriety. 

Do we want a picture of Groldsmith's experience in this part 
of his career % we have it in his observations on the life of an 



MISERIES OF AUTHORSHIP. 91 



author in the " Inquiry into the state of polite learning^'' pub- 
lished some years afterwards. 

" The author, unpatronized by the great, has naturally re- 
course to the bookseller. There cannot, perhaps, be imagined a 
combination more prejudicial to taste than this. It is the inter- 
est of the one to allow as little for writing, and for the other to 
write as much as possible ; accordingly, tedious compilations and 
periodical magazines are the result of their joint endeavors. In 
these circumstances the author bids adieu to fame ; writes for 
bread ; and for that only imagination is seldom called in. He 
sits down to address the venal muse with the most phlegmatic 
apathy ; and, as we are told of the Russian, courts his mistress 
by falling asleep in her lap." 

Again. " Those who are unacquainted with the world are 
apt to fancy the man of wit as leading a very agreeable life. 
They conclude, perhaps, that he is attended with silent admira- 
tion, and dictates to the rest of mankind with all the eloquence 
of conscious superiority. Very different is his present situation. 
He is called an author, and all know that an author is a thing 
only to be laughed at. His person, not his jest, becomes the 
mirth of the company. At his approach the most fat, unthink- 
ing face brightens into malicious meaning. Even aldermen laugh, 
and avenge on him the ridicule which was lavished on their fore- 
fathers. * * * # The poet's poverty is a stand- 
ing topic of contempt. His writing for bread is an unpardona- 
ble offence. Perhaps of all mankind, an author in these times 
is used most hardly. We keep him poor, and yet revile his 
poverty. We reproach him for living by his wit, and yet allow 
him no other means to live. His taking refuge in garrets and 
cellars, has of late been violently objected to him, and that by 



92 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



men who, I have hope, are more apt to pity than insult his 
distress. Is poverty a careless fault? No doubt he knows 
how to prefer a bottle of champagne to the nectar of the neigh- 
boring ale-house, or a venison pasty to a plate of potatoes. 
Want of delicacy is not in him, but in those who deny him the 
opportunity of making an elegant choice. Wit certainly is the 
property of those who have it, nor should we be displeased if it 
is the only property a man sometimes has. We must not under- 
rate him who uses it for subsistence, and flees from the ingrati- 
tude of the age, even to a bookseller for redress." * * * * 

" If the author be necessary among us, let us treat him with 
proper consideration as a child of the public, not as a rent-charge 
on the community. And indeed a child of the public he is in 
all respects ; for while so well able to direct others, how incapa- 
ble is he frequently found of guiding himself His simplicity 
exposes him to all the insidious approaches of cunning : his sen- 
sibility, to the slightest invasions of contempt. Though possessed 
of fortitude to stand unmoved the expected bursts of an earth- 
quake, yet of feelings so exquisitely poignant, as to agonize under 
the slightest disappointment. Broken rest, tasteless meals, and 
causeless anxieties shorten life and render it unfit for active em- 
ployments ; prolonged vigils and intense application still farther 
contract his span, and make his time glide insensibly away." 

While poor Groldsmith was thus struggling with the difficul- 
ties and discouragements which in those days beset the path of 
an author, his friends in Ireland received accounts of his literary 
success and of the distinguished acquaintances he was making. 
This was enough to put the wise heads at Lissoy and Ballyma- 
hon in a ferment of conjectures. With the exaggerated notions 
of provincial relatives concerning the family great man in the 



LETTER TO HODSON, 93 



metropolis, some of Goldsmith's poor kindred pictured him to 
themselves seated in high places, clothed in purple and fine 
linen, and hand and glove with the givers of gifts and dispensers 
of patronage. Accordingly, he was one day surprised at the sud- 
den apparition, in his miserable lodging, of his younger brother 
Charles, a raw youth of twenty-one, endowed with a double share 
of the family heedlessness, and who expected to be forthwith 
helped into some snug by-path to fortune by one or other of 
Oliver's great friends. Charles was sadly disconcerted on learn- 
ing that, so far from being able to provide for others, his 
brother could scarcely take care of himself He looked round 
with a rueful eye on the poet's quarters, and could not help ex- 
pressing his surprise and disappointment at finding him no bet- 
ter off. " All in good time, my dear boy," replied poor Gold- 
smith, with infinite good-humor ; " I shall be richer by-and-by. 
Addison, let me tell you, wrote his poem of the ' Campaign ' in 
a garret in the Haymarket, three stories high, and you see I am 
not come to that yet, for I have only got to the second story." 

Charles Goldsmith did not remain long to embarrass his 
brother in London. With the same roving disposition and incon- 
siderate temper of Oliver, he suddenly departed in an humble 
capacity to seek his fortune in the West Indies, and nothing was 
heard of him for above thirty years, when, after having been 
given up as dead by his friends, he made his reappearance in 
England. 

Shortly after his departure Goldsmith wrote a letter to his 
brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson, Esq., of which the following is an 
extract ; it was partly intended, no doubt, to dissipate any further 
illusions concerning his fortunes which might float on the magni- 
ficent imagination of his friends in Ballymahon. 



94 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



" I suppose you desire to know my present situation. As 
there is nothing in it at which I should blush or which mankind 
could censure, I see no reason for making it a secret. In short, 
by a very little practice as a physician, and a very little reputa- 
tion as a poet, I make a shift to live. Nothing is more apt to in- 
troduce us- to the gates of the muses than poverty ; but it were 
well if they only left us at the door. The mischief is, they some- 
times choose to give us their company to the entertainment ; and 
want, instead of being gentleman-usber, often turns master of the 
ceremonies. 

" Thus, upon learning I write, no doubt you imagine I starve ; 
and the name of an author naturally reminds you of a garret. 
In this particular I do not think proper to undeceive my friends. 
But, whether I eat or starve, live in a first floor or four pairs of 
stairs high, I still remember them with ardor ; nay, my very 
country comes in for a share of my affection. Unaccountable 
fondness for country, this maludie chi pais, as the French call it ! 
Unaccountable that he should still have an affection for a place, 
who never, when in it, received above common civility ; who never 
brought any thing out of it except his brogue and his blunders. 
Surely my affection is equally ridiculous with the Scotchman's, 
who refused to be cured of the itch because it made him unco' 
thoughtful of his wife and bonny Inverary. 

" But, now, to be serious : let me ask myself what gives me a 
wish to see Ireland again. The country is a fine one, perhaps 1 
No. There are good company in Ireland ? No. The conversation 
there is generally made up of a smutty toast or a bawdy song ; 
the vivacity supported by some humble cousin, who had just folly 
enough to earn his dinner. Then, perhaps, there's more wit and 
learning among the Irish ? Oh, Lord, no ! There has been 



RECOLLECTIONS OF HOME. 95 



more money spent in the encouragement of the Padareen mare 
there one season, than given in rewards to learned men since the 
time of Usher. All their productions in learning amount to 
perhaps a translation, or a few tracts in divinity; and all their 
productions in wit to just nothing at all. Why the plague, then, 
so fond of Ireland ? Then, all at once, because you, my dear 
friend, and a few more who are exceptions to the general picture, 
have a residence there. This it is that gives me all the pangs I 
feel in separation. I confess I carry this spirit sometimes to the 
souring the pleasures I at present possess. If I go to the opera, 
where Signora Columba pours out all the mazes of melody, I sit 
and sigh for Lissoy fireside, and Johnny Armstrong's ' Last 
Grood-night ' from Peggy Golden. If I climb Hampstead Hill, 
than where nature never exhibited a more magnificent prospect, 
I confess it fine ; but then I had rather be placed on the little 
mount before Lissoy gate, and there take in, to me, the most 
pleasing horizon in nature. 

" Before Charles came hither, my thoughts sometimes found 
refuge from severer studies among my friends in Ireland. I 
fancied strange revolutions at home ; but I find it was the 
rapidity of my own motion that gave an imaginary one to objects 
really at rest. No alterations there. Some friends, he tells me, 
are still lean, but very rich ; others very fat, but still very poor. 
Nay, all the news I hear of you is, that you sally out in visits 
among the neighbors, and sometimes make a migration from 
the blue bed to the brown. I could from my heart wish that you 
and she (Mrs. Hodson), and Lissoy and Ballymahon, and all of 
you, would fairly make a migration into Middlesex ; though, 
upon second thoughts, this might be attended with a few incon- 
veniences. Therefore, as the mountain will not come to Moham- 



96 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



medj why Mohammed shall go to the mountain; or, to speak plain 
English, as you cannot conveniently pay me a visit, if next sum- 
mer I can contrive to be absent six weeks from London, I shall 
spend three of them among my friends in Ireland. But first, 
believe me, my design is purely to visit, and neither to cut a 
figure nor levy contributions ; neither to excite envy nor solicit 
favor ; in fact, my circumstances are adapted to neither. I am 
too poor to be gazed at, and too rich to need assistance. 



HACKNEY AUTHORSHIP. 97 



CHAPTER IX. 

Hackney authorship. — Thoughts of literary suicide. — Return to Peckham. — 
Oriental projects. — Literary enterprise to raise funds, — Letter to Edward 
Wells — to Robert Bryanton. — Death of uncle Contarine. — Letter to cousin 
Jane. 

For some time Groldsmith continued to write miscellaneously for 
reviews and other periodical publications, but without making 
any decided hit, to use a technical term. Indeed as yet he ap- 
peared destitute of the strong excitement of literary ambition, 
and wrote only on the spur of necessity and at the urgent impor- 
tunity of his bookseller. His indolent and truant disposition, 
ever averse from labor and delighting in holiday, had to be 
scourged up to its task ; still it was this very truant disposition 
which threw an unconscious charm over every thing he wrote ; 
bringing with it honeyed thoughts and pictured images which 
had sprung up in his mind in the sunny hours of idleness : 
these effusions, dashed off on compulsion in the exigency of the 
moment, were published anonymously ; so that they made no col- 
lective impression on the public, and reflected no fame on the 
name of their author. 

In an essay published some time subsequently in the " Bee," 
G-oldsmith adverts in his own humorous way, to his impatience 
at the tardiness with which his desultory and unacknowledged 

5 



98 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



essays crept into notice, " I was once induced," says he, " to 
show my indignation against the public by discontinuing my ef- 
forts to please ; and was bravely resolved, like Raleigh, to vex 
them by burning my manuscripts in a passion. Upon reflection, 
however, I considered what set or body of people would be dis- 
pleased at my rashness. The sun, after so sad an accident, 
might shine next morning as bright as usual ; men might laugh 
and sing the next day, and transact business as before ; and not 
a single creature feel any regret but myself Instead of having 
Apollo in mourning or the Muses in a fit of the spleen ; instead 
of having the learned world apostrophizing at my untimely 
decease ; perhaps all Grrub-street might laugh at my fate, and 
self-approving dignity be unable to shield me from ridicule." 

Circumstances occurred about this time to give a new direc- 
tion to Groldsmith's hopes and schemes. Having resumed for a 
brief period the superintendence of the Peckham school, during 
a fit of illness of Dr. Milner, that gentleman, in requital for his 
timely services, promised to use his influence with a friend, an 
East India director, to procure him a medical appointment in 
India. 

There was every reason to believe that the influence of Dr. 
Milner would be eff'ectual ; but how was Goldsmith to find the 
ways and means of fitting himself out for a voyage to the Indies ? 
In this emergency he was driven to a more extended exercise of 
the pen than he had yet attempted. His skirmishing among 
books as a reviewer, and his disputatious ramble among the 
schools and universities and literati of the Continent, had filled 
his mind with facts and observations which he now set about 
digesting into a treatise of some magnitude, to be entitled " An 
Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe.'' 



LETTER TO MILLS. 99 



As the work grew on his hands his sanguine temper ran ahead of 
his labors. Feeling secure of success in England, he was 
anxious to forestall the piracy of the Irish press ; for as yet, the 
union not having taken place, the English law of copyright did 
not extend to the other side of the Irish channel. He wrote, 
therefore, to his friends in Ireland, urging them to circulate his 
proposals for his contemplated work, and obtain subscriptions 
payable in advance ; the money to be transmitted to a Mr. Brad- 
ley, an eminent bookseller in Dublin, who would give a receipt 
for it and be accountable for the delivei'y of the books. The 
letters written by him on this occasion are worthy of copious cita- 
tion as being full of character and interest. One was to his rela- 
tive and college intimate, Edward Wells, who had studied for the 
bar, but was now living at ease on his estate at Roscommon. 
" You have quitted," writes Goldsmith, " the plan of life which 
you once intended to pursue, and given up ambition for domestic 
tranquillity. I cannot avoid feeling some regret that one of my 
few friends has declined a pursuit in which he had every reason 
to expect success. I have often let my fancy loose when you 
were the subject, and have imagined you gracing the bench, or 
thundering at the bar : while I have taken no small pride to 
myself, and whispered to all that I could come near, that this 
was my cousin. Instead of this, it seems, you are merely con- 
tented to be a happy man ; to be esteemed by your acquaint- 
ances ; to cultivate your paternal acres ; to take unmolested a 
nap under one of your own hawthorns, or in Mrs. Wells's bed- 
chamber, which, even a poet must confess, is rather the more 
comfortable place of the two. But, however your resolutions 
may be altered with regard to your situation in life, I persuade 
myself they are unalterable with respect to your friends in it. I 



100 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



cannot think the world has taken such entire possession of that 
heart (once so susceptible of friendship) as not to have left a 
corner there for a friend or two, but I flatter myself that even I 
have a place among the number. This I have a claim to from 
the similitude of our dispositions ; or setting that aside, I can 
demand it as a right by the most equitable law of nature ; I 
mean that of retaliation ; for indeed you have more than your 
share in mine. I am a man of few professions ; and yet at this 
very instant I cannot avoid the painful apprehension that my 
present professions (which speak not half my feelings) should be 
considered only as a pretext to cover a request, as I have a re- 
quest to make. No, my dear Ned, I know you are too generous 
to think so, and you know me too proud to stoop to unnecessary 
insincerity — I have a request, it is true, to make ; but as I know 
to whom I am a petitioner, I make it without diffidence or con- 
fusion. It is in short this, I am going to publish a book in 
London," &c. The residue of the letter specifies the nature of 
the request, which was merely to aid in cii-culating his proposals 
and obtaining subscriptions. The letter of the poor author, 
however, was unattended to and unacknowledged by the prospe- 
rous Mr. "Wells, of Roscommon, though in after years he was 
proud to claim relationship to Dr. Groldsmith, when he had risen 
to celebrity. 

Another of Groldsmith's letters was to Robert Bryanton, with 
whom he had long ceased to be in correspondence. " I believe," 
writes he, " that they who are drunk, or out of their wits, fancy 
every body else in the same condition. Mine is a friendship 
that neither distance nor time can efi"ace, which is probably the 
reason that, for the soul of me, I can't avoid thinking yours of 
the same complexion ; and yet I have many reasons for being of 



LETTER TO BRYANTON. 101 



a contrary opinion, else why, in so long an absence, was I never 
made a partner in your concerns ? To hear of your success 
would have given me the utmost pleasure ; and a communication 
of your very disappointments would divide the uneasiness, I 
too frequently feel for my own. Indeed, my dear Bob, you don't 
conceive how unkindly you have treated one whose circumstances 
afford him few prospects of pleasure, except those reflected from 
the happiness of his friends. However, since you have not let 
ma hear from you, I have in some measure disappointed your 
neglect by frequently thinking of you. Every day or so I re^ 
member the calm anecdotes of your life, from the fireside to the 
easy chair ; recall the various adventures that first cemented our 
friendship ; the school, the college, or the tavern ; preside in fancy 
over your cards ; and am displeased at your bad play when the 
rubber goes against you, though not with all that agony of soul 
as when I was once your partner. Is it not strange that two of 
such like affections should be so much separated, and so differ- 
ently employed as we are ? You seem placed at the centre of 
fortune's wheel, and, let it revolve ever so fast, are insensible of 
the motion. I seem to have been tied to the circumference, and 
whirled disagreeably round, as if on a whirligig." 

He then runs into a whimsical and extravagant tirade 
about his future prospects. The wonderful career of fame and 
fortune that awaits him, and after indulging in all kinds of hu- 
morous gasconades, concludes : " Let me, then, stop my fancy to 
take a -^iew of my future self, — and, as the boys say, light down 
to see myself on horseback. Well, now that I am down, where 
the d — 1 is I? Oh gods ! gods ! here in a garret, writing for 
bread, and expecting to be dunned for a milk score !" 

He would, on this occasion, have doubtless written to his un- 
4 



102 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



cle Contarine, but that generous friend was sunk into a helpless 
hopeless state from which death soon released him. 

Cut off thus from the kind co-operation of his uncle, he 
addresses a letter to his daughter Jane, the companion of his 
school-boy and happy days, now the wife of Mr. Lawder. The 
object was to secure her interest with her husband in promoting 
the circulation of his proposals. The letter is full of character. 

" If you should ask," he begins, " why, in an interval of so 
many years, you never heard from me, permit me, madam, to ask 
the same question. I have the best excuse in recrimination. I 
wrote to Kilmore from Leyden in Holland, from Louvain in 
Flanders, and Rouen in France, but received no answer. To 
what could I attribute this silence but to displeasure or forget- 
fulness ? Whether I was right in my conjecture I do not pre- 
tend to determine ; but this I must ingenuously own, that I have 
a thousand times in my turn endeavored to forget tliem^ whom I 
could not but look upon as forgetting iiie. I have attempted to 
blot their names from my memory, and, I confess it, spent whole 
days in efforts to tear their image from my heart. Could I have 
succeeded, you had not now been troubled with this renewal of a 
discontinued correspondence ; but, as every effort the restless 
make to procure sleep serves but to keep them waking, all my 
attempts contributed to impress what I would forget deeper on 
my imagination. But this subject I would willingly turn from, 
and yet, ' for the soul of me,' I can't till I have said all. I was, 
madam, when I discontinued writing to Kilmore, in such circum- 
stances, that all my endeavors to continue your regards might be 
attributed to wrong motives. My letters might be looked upon 
as the petitions of a beggar, and not the offerings of a friend ; 
while all my professions, instead of being considered as the re- 



LETTER TO COUSIN JANE. 103 



suit of disinterested esteem, miglit be ascribed to venal insin- 
cerity. I believe, indeed, you had too much generosity to place 
them in such a light, but I could not bear even the shadow of 
such a suspicion. The most delicate friendships are always most 
sensible of the slightest invasion, and the strongest jealousy is 
ever attendant on the warmest regard. I could not — I own I 
could not — continue a correspondence in which every acknow- 
ledgment for past favors might be considered as an indirect re- 
quest for future ones ; and where it might be thought I gave my 
heart from a motive of gratitude alone, when I was conscious of 
having bestowed it on much more disinterested principles. It is 
true, this conduct might have been simple enough ; but yourself 
must confess it was in character. Those who know me at all, 
know that I have always been actuated by different principles 
from the rest of mankind : and while none regarded the interest 
of his friend more, no man on earth regarded his own less. I 
have often affected bluntness to avoid the imputation of flattery ; 
have frequently seemed to overlook those merits too obvious to 
escape notice, and pretended disregard to those instances of good 
nature and good sense, which I could not fail tacitly to applaud ; 
and all this lest I should be ranked among the grinning tribe, 
who say ' very true ' to all that is said ; who fill a vacant chair at 
a tea-table ; whose narrow souls never moved in a wider circle 
than the circumference of a guinea ; and who had rather be reck- 
oning the money in your pocket than the virtue in your breast. 
All this, I say, I have done, and a thousand other very silly, 
though very disinterested, things in my time ; and for all which 
no soul cares a farthing about me. * * * * Is it 
to be wondered that he should once in his life forget you, who 
has been all bis life forgetting himself? However, it is probable 



104 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



you may one of these days see me turned into a perfect hunks, 
and as dark and intricate as a mouse-hole. I have already given 
my landlady orders for an entire reform in the state of my finan- 
ces. I declaim against hot suppers, drink less sugar in my tea, 
and check my grate with brickbats. Instead of hanging my 
room with pictures, I intend to adorn it with maxims of fru- 
gality. Those will make pretty furniture enough, and won't be 
a bit too expensive : for I will draw them all out with my own 
hands, and my landlady's daughter shall frame them with the 
parings of my black waistcoat. Each maxim is to be inscribed 
on a sheet of clean paper, and wrote with my best pen ; of which 
the following will serve as a specimen. Look sharp : Mind tlie 
'main cJiaitce : Money is 7noney now : If you have a thousand 
pounds you can put your hands by your sides, and say you are 
worth a tJuncsand pounds every day of the year : Take a farthing 
from a hundred aiul it will he a hundred no longer. Thus, 
which way soever I turn my eyes, they are sure to meet one of 
those friendly monitors ; and as we are told of an actor who 
hung his room round with looking-glass to correct the defects of 
his person, my apartment shall be furnished in a peculiar man- 
ner, to correct the errors of my mind. Faith ! madam, I heartily 
wish to be rich, if it were only for this reason, to say without a 
blush how much I esteem you. But, alas ! I have many a fatigue 
to encounter before that happy time comes, when your poor old 
simple friend may again give a loose to the luxuriance of his na- 
ture ; sitting by Kilmore fireside, recount the various adventures 
of a hard-fought life ; laugh over the follies of the day ; join his 
flute to your harpsichord ; and forget that ever he starved in 
those streets where Butler and Otway starved before him. And 
now I mention those great names — ^my Uncle ! he is no more 



LETTER TO COUSIN JANE. 105 



that soul of fire as when I once knew him. Newton and Swift 
grew dim with age as well as he. But what shall I say ? His 
mind was too active an inhabitant not to disorder the feeble man- 
sion of its abode : for the richest jewels soonest wear their set- 
tings. Yet, who but the fool would lament his condition! He 
now forgets the calamities of life. Perhaps indulgent Heaven 
has given him a foretaste of that tranquillity here, which he so 
well deserves hereafter. But I must come to business ; for bu- 
siness, as one of my maxims tells me, must be minded or lost. 
I am going to publish in London a book entitled Tlie Present 
State of Taste arul Literature in Europe. The booksellers in 
Ireland republish every performance there without making the 
author any consideration. I would, in this respect, disappoint 
their avarice, and have all the profits of my labor to myself I 
must, therefore, request Mr. Lawder to circulate among his 
friends and acquaintances a hundred of my proposals, which I 
have given the bookseller, Mr. Bradley, in Dame-street, directions 
to send to him. If, in pursuance of such circulation, he should 
receive any subscriptions, I entreat, when collected, they may be 
sent to Mr. Bradley, as aforesaid, who will give a receipt, and be 
accountable for the work, or a return of the subscription. If 
this request (which, if it be complied with, will in some measure 
be an encouragement to a man of learning) should be disagreea- 
ble or troublesome, I would not press it ; for I would be the 
last man on earth to have my labors go a-begging ; but if I know 
Mr. Lawder (and sure I ought to know him), he will accept the 
employment with pleasure. All I can say — if he writes a book, 
I will get him two hundred subscribers, and those of the best 
wits in Europe. Whether this request is complied with or not, 
I shall not be uneasy ; but there is one petition I must make to 

5* 



106 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



him and to you, which I solicit with the warmest ardor, and in 
which I cannot bear a refusal. I mean, dear madam, that I 
may be allowed to subscribe myself, your ever aifectionate and 
obliged kinsman, Oliver Gtoldsmith. Now see how I blot and 
blunder, when I am asking a favor." 



ORIENTAL APPOINTMENT. 107 



CHAPTER X. 

Oriental appointment — and disappointment. — Examination at the College of 
Surgeons. — How to procure a suit of clothes. — Fresh disappointment. — A 
tale of distress. — The suit of clothes in pawn. — Punishment for doing an 
act of charity. — Gayeties of Green Arbor Court. — Letter to his brother. — 
Life of Voltaire. — Scroggins, an attempt at mock heroic poetry. 

While Groldsmith was yet laboring at his treatise, the promise 
made him by Dr. Milner was carried into effect, and he was 
actually appointed physician and surgeon to one of the factories 
on the coast of Coromandel. His imagination was immediately 
on fire with visions of Oriental wealth and magnificence. It is 
true the salary did not exceed one hundred pounds, but then, as 
appointed physician, he would have the exclusive practice of the 
place, amounting to one thousand pounds per annum ; with ad- 
vantages to be derived from trade and from the high interest of 
money — twenty per cent. ; in a word, for once in his life, the road 
to fortune lay broad and straight before him. 

Hitherto, in his correspondence with his friends, he had said 
nothing of his India scheme ; but now he imparted to them his 
brilliant prospects, urging the importance of their circulating his 
proposals and obtaining him subscriptions and advances on his 
forthcoming work, to furnish funds for his outfit. 

In the meantime he had to task that poor drudge, his muse, 



108 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



for present exigencies. Ten pounds were demanded for Ms ap- 
pointment-warrant. Other expenses pressed hard upon him. 
Fortunately, though as yet unknown to fame, his literary capa- 
bility was known to " the trade," and the coinage of his brain 
passed current in Grub-street. Archibald Hamilton, proprietor 
of the " Critical Review," the rival to that of GrriiEths, readily 
made him a small advance on receiving three articles for his 
periodical. His purse thus slenderly replenished. Goldsmith paid 
for his warrant ; wiped oif the score of his milkmaid ; abandoned 
his garret, and moved into a shabby first floor in a forlorn court 
near the Old Bailey ; there to await the time for his migration to 
the magnificent coast of Coromandel. 

Alas ! poor Goldsmith ! ever doomed to disappointment. 
Early in the gloomy month of November, that month of fog and 
despondency in London, he learnt the shipwreck of his hope. 
The great Coromandel enterprise fell through ; or rather the 
post promised to him, was transferred to some other candidate. 
The cause of this disappointment it is now impossible to ascer- 
tain. The death of his quasi patron, Dr. Milner, which happened 
about this time, may have had some effect in producing it ; or 
there may have been some heedlessness and blundering on his own 
part ; or some obstacle arising from his insuperable indigence ; 
whatever may have been the cause, he never mentioned it, which 
gives some ground to surmise that he himself was to blame. His 
fi'iends learnt with surprise that he had suddenly relinquished 
his appointment to India, about which he had raised such san- 
guine expectations : some accused him of fickleness and caprice ; 
others supposed him unwilling to tear himself from the growing 
fascinations of the literary society of London. 

In the meantime cut down in his hopes, and humiliated in his 



FIRST DISAPPOINTMENT. 109 



pride by the failure of his Coromandel scheme, he sought, with- 
out consulting his friends, to be examined at the College of Physi- 
cians for the humble situation of hospital mate. Even here 
poverty stood in his way. It was necessary to appear in a decent 
garb before the examining committee ; but how was he to do so ? 
He was literally out at elbows as well as out of cash. Here 
again the muse, so often jilted and neglected by him, came to 
his aid. In consideration of four articles furnished to the 
" Monthly Review," Griffiths, his old task-master, was to become 
his security to the tailor for a suit of clothes. Goldsmith said 
he wanted them but for a single occasion, on which depended his 
appointment to a situation in the army ; as soon as that tempo- 
rary purpose was served they would either be returned or paid 
for. The books to be reviewed were accordingly lent to him ; 
the muse was again set to her compulsory drudgery ; the articles 
were scribbled off and sent to the bookseller, and the clothes 
came in due time from the tailor. 

From the records of the College of Surgeons, it appears that 
Goldsmith underwent his examination at Surgeons' Hall, on the 
21st of December, 1758. Either from a confusion of mind inci- 
dent to sensitive and imaginative persons on such occasions, or 
from a real want of surgical science, which last is extremely pro- 
bable, he failed'in his examination, and was rejected as unquali- 
fied. The effect of such a rejection was to disqualify him for 
every branch of public service, though he might have claimed a 
re-examination, after the interval of a few months devoted to 
further study. Such a re-examination he never attempted, nor 
did he ever communicate his discomfiture to any of his friends. 

On Christmas Day, but four days after his rejection by the 
College of Surgeons, while he was suffering under the mortification 



110 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



of defeat and disappointment, and hard pressed for means of 
subsistence, he was surprised by the entrance into his room of the 
poor woman of whom he hired his wretched apartment, and to 
whom he owed some small arrears of rent. She had a piteous tale 
of distress, and was clamorous in her afflictions. Her husband 
had been arrested in the night for debt, and thrown into prison. 
This was too much for the quick feelings of Goldsmith ; he was 
ready at any time to help the distressed, but in this instance he 
was himself in some measure a cause of the distress.. What was 
to be done ? He had no money it is true ; but there hung the 
new suit of clothes in which he had stood his unlucky examina- 
tion at Surgeons' Hall. Without giving himself time for reflec- 
tion, he sent it off to the pawnbroker's, and raised thereon a suf- 
ficient sum to pay off his own debt, and to release his landlord 
from prison. 

Under the same pressure of penury and despondency, he 
borrowed from a neighbor a pittance to relieve his immediate 
wants, leaving as a security the books which he had recently 
reviewed. In the midst of these straits and harassments, he 
received a letter from G-riffiths, demanding in peremptory terms, 
the return of the clothes and books, or immediate payment for 
the same. It appears that he had discovered the identical suit 
at the pawnbroker's. The reply of Goldsmith is not known ; it 
was out of his power to furnish either the clothes or the money ; 
but he probably offered once more to make the muse stand his 
bail. His reply only increased the ire of the wealthy man of 
trade, and drew from him another letter still more harsh than 
the first ; using the epithets of knave and sharper, and contain- 
ing threats of prosecution and a prison. 

The following letter from poor Goldsmith gives the most 



PUNISHMENT FOR AN ACT OF CHARITY. Ill 



touching picture of an inconsiderate but sensitive man, harassed 
by care, stung by humiliations, and driven almost to despondency. 

Sir, — " I know of no misery but a jail to which my own impru- 
dences and your letter seem to point. I have seen it inevitable 
these three or four weeks, and, by heavens ! request it as a favor, 
— as a favor that may prevent something more fatal. I have 
been some years struggling with a wretched being — with all that 
contempt that indigence brings with it — with all those passions 
which make contempt insupportable. What, then, has a jail that 
is formidable 1 I shall at least have the society of wretches, and 
such is to me true society. I tell you, again and again, that I am 
neither able nor willing to pay you a farthing, but I will be punc- 
tual to any appointment you or the tailor shall make ; thus far, 
at least, I do not act the sharper, since, unable to pay my own 
debts one way, I would generally give some security another. 
No, sir ; had I been a sharper — had I been possessed of less 
good-nature and native generosity, I might surely now have been 
in better circumstances. 

" I am guilty, I own, of meannesses which poverty unavoid- 
ably brings with it : my reflections are filled with repentance for 
my imprudence, but not with any remorse for being a villain : 
that may be a character you unjustly charge me with. Your 
books, I can assure you, are neither pawned nor sold, but in the 
custody of a friend, from whom my necessities obliged me to 
borrow some money : whatever becomes of my person, you shall 
have them in a month. It is very possible both the reports you 
have heard and your own suggestions may have brought you 
false information with respect to my character ; it is very possi- 
ble that the man whom you now regard with detestation may 
X 



112 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



inwardly burn with grateful resentment. It is very possible 
that, upon a second perusal of the letter I sent you, you may see 
the workings of a mind strongly agitated with gratitude and jea- 
lousy. If such circumstances should appear, at least spare in- 
vective till my book with Mr. Dodsley shall be published, and 
then, perhaps, you may see the bright side of a mind, when my 
professions shall not appear the dictates of necessity, but of 
choice. 

" You seem to think Dr. Milner knew me not. Perhaps so ; 
but he was a man I shall ever honor ; but I have friendships 
only with the dead ! I ask pardon for taking up so much time ; 
nor shall I add to it by any other professions than that I am, 
sir, your humble servant, 

" Oliver Gtoldsmith. 

" P. S. — I shall expect impatiently the result of your reso- 
lutions." 

The dispute between the poet and the publisher was afterward 
imperfectly adjusted, and it would appear that the clothes were 
paid for by a short compilation advertised by Griffiths in the 
course of the following month ; but the parties were never really 
friends afterward, and the writings of Goldsmith were harshly 
and unjustly treated in the Monthly Review. 

We have given the preceding anecdote in detail, as furnishing 
one of the many instances, in which Goldsmith's prompt and bene- 
volent impulses outran all prudent forecast, and involved him 
in difficulties and disgraces, which a more selfish man would have 
avoided. The pawning of the clothes, charged upon him as a 
crime by the grinding bookseller, and apparently admitted by 
him as one of " the meannesses which poverty unavoidably brings 



GREEN ARBOR COURT. 113 



with it," resulted, as we -have shown, from a tenderness of heart 
and generosity of hand, in which another man would have glo- 
ried ; but these were such natural elements with him, that he was 
unconscious of their merit. It is a pity that wealth does not 
oftener bring such ' meannesses ' in its train. 

And now let us be indulged in a few particulars about these 
lodgings in which Goldsmith was guilty of this thoughtless act 
of benevolence. They were in a very shabby house. No. 12 
Green Arbor Court, between the Old Bailey and Fleet Market. 
An old woman was still living in 1820 who was a relative of the 
identical landlady whom Goldsmith relieved by the money re- 
ceived from the pawnbroker. She was a child about seven years 
of age at the time that the poet rented his apartment of her 
relative, and used frequently to be at the house in Green Arbor 
Court. She was drawn there, in a great measure, by the good- 
humored kindness of Goldsmith, who was always exceedingly 
fond of the society of children. He used to assemble those of 
the family in his room, give them cakes and sweetmeats, and set 
them dancing to the sound of his flute. He was very friendly 
to those around him, and cultivated a kind of intimacy with a 
watchmaker in the Court, who possessed much native wit and 
humor. He passed most of the day, however, in his room, and 
only went out in the evenings. His days were no doubt devoted 
to the drudgery of the pen, and it would appear that he occa- 
sionally found the booksellers urgent task-masters. On one 
occasion a visitor was shown up to his room, and immediately 
their voices were heard in high altercation, and the key was 
turned within the lock. The landlady, at first, was disposed to 
go to the assistance of her lodger ; but a calm succeeding, she 
forbore to interfere. 



114 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Late in the evening the door was unlocked ; a supper ordered 
by the visitor from a neighboring tavern, and Goldsmith and his 
intrusive guest finished the evening in great good-humor. It was 
probably his old task-master Grriffiths, whose press might have 
been waiting, and who found no other mode of getting a stipu- 
lated task from Groldsmith than by locking him in, and staying 
by him until it was finished. 

But we have a more particular account of these lodgings in 
Grreen Arbor Court from the Rev. Thomas Percy, afterward 
Bishop of Dromore, and celebrated for his relics of ancient poetry, 
his beautiful ballads, and other works. During an occasional 
visit to London, he was introduced to Goldsmith by Grainger, 
and ever after continued one of his most steadfast and valued 
friends. The following is his description of the poet's squalid 
apartment : " I called on Goldsmith at his lodgings in March, 
1759, and found him writing his ' Inquiry,' in a miserable, dirty- 
looking room, in which there was but one chair ; and when, from 
civility, he resigned it to me, he himself was obliged to sit in 
the window. While we were conversing together some one tapped 
gently at the door, and, being desired to come in, a poor, ragged 
little girl, of a very becoming demeanor, entered the room, and, 
dropping a courtesy, said, ' My mamma sends her compliments, 
and begs the favor of you to lend her a chamber-pot full of 
coals.' " 

We are reminded in this anecdote of Goldsmith's picture of 
the lodgings of Beau Tibbs, and of the peep into the secrets of a 
make-shift establishment given to a visitor by the blundering old 
Scotch woman. 

" By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would 
permit us to ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously 



GREEN ARBOR COURT. 115 



pleased to call the first floor down the chimney ; and, knocking at 
the door, a voice from within demanded 'who's there?' My 
conductor answered that it was him. But this not satisfying the 
querist, the voice again repeated the demand, to which he an- 
swered louder than before ; and now the door was opened by 
an old woman with cautious reluctance. 

" When we got in he welcomed me to his house with great 
ceremony ; and, turning to the old woman, asked where was her 
lady. ' Good troth,' replied she, in a peculiar dialect, ' she's 
washing your twa shirts at the next door, because they have 
taken an oath against lending the tub any longer.' ' My two 
shirts,' cried he, in a tone that faltered with confusion ; ' what 
does the idiot mean V ' I ken what I mean weel enough,' re- 
plied the other ; ' she's washing your twa shirts at the next door, 
because — ' ' Fire and fury ! no more of thy stupid explanations,' 
cried he ; 'go and inform her we have company. Were that 
Scotch hag to be for ever in my family, she would never learn 
politeness, nor forget that absurd poisonous accent of hers, or 
testify the smallest specimen of breeding or high life ; and yet 
it is very surprising too, as I had her from a Parliament man, a 
friend of mine from the Highlands, one of the politest men in the 
world ; but that's a secret.' "* 

Let us linger a little in Green Arbor Court, a place conse- 
crated by the genius and the poverty of Goldsmith, but recently 
obliterated in the course of modern improvements. The writer 
of this memoir visited it not many years since on a literary pil- 
grimage, and may be excused for repeating a description of it 
which he has heretofore inserted in another publication. " It 
then existed in its pristine state, and was a small square of tall 

* Citizen of the World, letter iv. 



116 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



and uii$ovablo houses, the very intestines of which seemed turned 
inside out, to judge from the old garments and frippery that flut- 
tered from every window. It appeared to be a region of washer- 
women, and lines were stretched about the little sipare, on which 
clothes were dangling to di"y. 

'• Just as we entered the square, a scuffle took place between 
two vii'agoes about a disputed right to a washtub, and imme- 
diately the whole commxinity was in a hubbub. Heads in mob- 
caps popped out of every window, and such a clamor of tongues 
ensued that I was fain to stop my ears. Every amazon took 
part with one or other of the dispxitants, and brandished her 
arms, dripping with soapsuds, and fired away from her window as 
from the embrasure of a fortress ; while the screams of children 
nestled and cradled in evei'y procreant chamber of this hive, 
waking with the noise, set iip their shrill pipes to swell the 
general concert."* 

While in these forlorn quarters, suffering \inder extreme 
depression of spirits, caused by his failure at Surgeons' Hall, 
the disappointment of his hopes, and his harsh collisions with 
Griffiths, Goldsmith wrote the following letter to his brother 
Henry, some parts of which are most touchingly mournful. 

•• Deak Sik, 

'• Your punctx\ality in answering a man whose trade is writing, 
is more than I had reason to expect ; and yet you see me gener- 
ally fill a whole sheet, which is all the recompense I can make 
for being so freiixiently troublesome. The behavior of Mr. 3Iills 
and Mr. Lawder is a little extraordinary. However, their 
answering neither you nor me is a sufficient indication of their 

* Tales of a Traveller. 



LETTER TO HIS BROTHER HENRY, 117 



disliking the employment which I assigned them. As their 
conduct is different from what I had expected, so I have made 
an alteration in mine. I shall, the beginning of next month, 
send over two hundred and fifty books,* which are all that I 
fancy can be well sold among you, and I would have you make 
some distinction in the persons who have subscribed. The 
money, which will amount to sixty pounds, may be left with Mr. 
Bradley as soon as possible. I am not certain but I shall 
quickly have occasion for it. 

" I have met with no disappointment with respect to my East 
India voyage, nor are my resolutions altered ; though, at the 
same time, I must confess, it gives me some pain to think I am 
almost beginning the world at the age of thirty-one. Though I 
never had a day's sickness since I saw you, yet I am not that 
strong, active man you once knew me. You scarcely can conceive 
how much eight years of disappointment, anguish, and study have 
worn me down. If I remember right you are seven or eight 
years older than me, yet I dare venture to say, that, if a stranger 
saw us both, he would pay me the honors of seniority. Imagine 
to yourself a pale, melancholy visage, with two great wrinkles 
between the eyebrows, with an eye disgustingly severe, and a big 
wig ; and you may have a perfect picture of my present appearance. 
On the other hand, I conceive you as perfectly sleek and healthy, 
passing many a happy day among your own children, or those 
who knew you a child. 

" Since 1 knew what it was to be a man, this is a pleasure I 
have not known. I have passed my days among a parcel of cool, 
designing beings, and have contracted all their suspicious manner 

* The Inquiry into Polite Literature. His previous remarks apply to the 
eubscription. 



118 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



in my own behaviour. I should actually be as unfit for the 
society of my friends at home, as I detest that which I am 
obliged to partake of here. I can now neither partake of the 
pleasure of a revel, nor contribute to raise its jollity. I can 
neither laugh nor drink ; have contracted a hesitating, disagree- 
able manner of speaking, and a visage that looks ill-nature 
itself ; in short, I have thought myself into a settled melancholy, 
and an utter disgust of all that life brings with it. Whence 
this romantic turn that all our family are possessed with? 
Whence this love for every place and every country but that in 
which we reside — for every occupation but our own ? this desire 
of fortune, and yet this eagerness to dissipate ? I perceive, my 
dear sir, that I am at intervals for indulging this splenetic man- 
ner, and following my own taste, regardless of yours. 

" The reasons you have given me for breeding up your son a 
scholar are judicious and convincing ; I should, however, be glad 
to know for what particular profession he is designed. If he be 
assiduous and divested of strong passions (for passions in youth 
always lead to pleasure), he may do very well in your college ; 
for it must be owned that the industrious poor have good en- 
couragement there, perhaps better than in any other in Europe. 
But if he has ambition, strong passions, and an exquisite sensi- 
bility of contempt, do not send him there, unless you have no 
other trade for him but your own. It is impossible to conceive 
how much may be done by proper education at home. A boy, 
for instance, who understands perfectly well Latin, French, 
arithmetic, and the principles of the civil law, and can write a 
fine hand, has an education that may qualify him for any under- 
taking ; and these parts of learning should be carefully inculcated, 
let him be designed for whatever calling he will. 



WORLDLY WISDOM. 119 



"Above all things, let him never touch a romance or novel: 
these paint beauty in colors more charming than nature, and 
describe happiness that man never tastes. How delusive, how 
destructive are those pictures of consummate bliss ! They teach 
the youthful mind to sigh after beauty and happiness that never 
existed ; to despise the little good which fortune has mixed in 
our cup, by expecting more than she ever gave ; and, in general, 
take the word of a man who has seen the world, and who has 
studied human nature more by experience than precept ; take 
my word for it, I say, that books teach us very little of the world. 
The greatest merit in a state of poverty would only serve to 
make the possessor ridiculous — may distress, but cannot relieve 
him. Frugality, and even avarice, in the lower orders of man- 
kind, are true ambition. These afford the only ladder for the 
poor to rise to preferment. Teach- then, my dear sir, to your 
son, thrift and economy. Let his poor wandering uncle's 
example be placed before his eyes. I had learned from books to 
be disinterested and generous, before I was taught from expe- 
rience the necessity of being prudent. I had contracted the 
habits and notions of a philosopher, while I was exposing myself 
to the approaches of insidious cunning ; and often by being, even 
with my narrow finances, charitable to excess, I forgot the rules 
of justice, and placed myself in the very situation of the wretch 
who thanked me for my bounty. When I am in the remotest 
part of the world, tell him this, and perhaps he may improve 
from my example. But I find myself again falling into my 
gloomy habits of thinking. 

" My mother, I am informed, is almost blind ; even though I 
had the utmost inclination to return home, under such circum- 
stances I could not, for to behold her in distress without a capa- 



120 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



city of relieving her from it, would add much to my splenetic 
habit. Your last letter was much too short ; it should have an- 
swered some queries I had made in my former. J,ust sit down 
as I do, and write forward until you have filled all your paper. 
It requires no thought, at least from the ease with which my own 
sentiments rise when they are addressed to you. For, believe 
me, my head has no share in all I write ; my heart dictates the 
whole. Pray give my love to Bob Bryanton, and entreat him 
from me not to drink. My dear sir, give me some account about 
poor Jenny.* Yet her husband loves her : if so, she cannot be 
unhappy. 

" I know not whether I should tell you — ^yet why should I 
conceal these trifles, or, indeed, any thing from you ? There is a 
book of mine will be published in a few days : the life of a very 
extraordinary man ; no less than the great Voltaire. You know 
already by the title that it is no more than a catchpenny. How- 
ever, I spent but four weeks on the whole performance, for which 
I received twenty pounds. When published, I shall take some 
method of conveying it to you, unless you may think it dear of 
the postage, which may amount to four or five shillings. How- 
ever, I fear you will not find an equivalent of amusement. 

" Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short ; you should have 
given me your opinion of the design of the heroi-comical poem 
which I sent you. You remember I intended to introduce the 
hero of the poem as lying in a paltry alehouse. You may take 
the following specimen of the manner, which I flatter myself is 
quite original. The room in which he lies may be described 
somewhat in this way : 

* His sister, Mrs. Johnston ; her marriage, like that of Mrs. Hodson, was 
private, but in pecuniary matters much less fortunate. 



HEROI-COMICAL POEM. 121 



" • The window, patched with paper, lent a ray 
That feebly show'd the state in which he lay ; 
The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread. 
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread ; 
The game of goose was there exposed to view, 
And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew ; 
The Seasons, framed with listing, found a place. 
And Prussia's monarch show'd his lamp- black face. 
The morn was cold : he views with keen desire 
A rusty grate unconscious of a fire ; 
An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scored. 
And five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board.' 

" And now imagine, after his soliloquy, the landlord to make 
his appearance in order to dun him for the reckonihg : 

" * Not with that face, so servile and so gay, 
That welcomes every stranger that can pay : 
With sulky eye he smoked the patient man. 
Then pull'd his breeches tight, and thus began,' &c.* 

" All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark 
of Montaigne's, that the wisest men often have friends with whom 
they do not care how much they play the fool. Take my present 
follies as instances of my regard. Poetry is a much easier and 
more agreeable species of composition than prose ; and, could a 
man live by it, it were not unpleasant employment to be a poet. 
I am resolved to leave no space, though I should fill it up only 
by telling you, what you very well know already, I mean that I 
am your most affectionate friend and brother, 

" Oliver. .Goldsmith." 

* The projected poem, of which the above were specimens, appears never 
to have been completed. 



122 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



The Life of Voltaire, alluded to in the latter part of the pre- 
ceding letter, was the literary job undertaken to satisfy the 
demands of G-riffiths. It was to have preceded a translation of 
the Henriade, by Ned Purdon, Groldsmith's old schoolmate, now a 
Grrub-street writer, who starved rather than lived by the exercise 
of his pen, and often tasked Groldsmith's scanty means to relieve 
his hunger. His miserable career was summed up by our poet 
in the following lines written some years after the time we are 
treating of, on hearing that he had suddenly dropped dead in 
Smithfield : 

" Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed. 
Who long was a bookseller's hack ; 
He led such a damnable life in this world, 
I don't think he'll wish to come back." 

The memoir and translation, though advertised to form a 
volume, were not published together ; but appeared separately in 
a magazine. 

As to the heroi-comical poem, also, cited in the foregoing let- 
ter, it appears to have perished in embryo. Had it been brought 
to maturity we should have had further traits of autobiography; 
the room already described was probably his own squalid quarters 
in Grreen Arbor Court ; and in a subsequent morsel of the poem 
we have the poet himself, under the euphonious name of Scroggin : 

" Where the Red Lion peering o'er the way, 
Invites each passing stranger that can pay ; 
Where Calvert's butt and Parson's black champaigne 
Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury Lane ; 
There, in a lonely room, from baihffs snug. 
The muse foimd Scroggin stretch'd beneath a rug j 



SCROGGIN. 123 



A nightcap deck'd his brows instead of bay, 
A cap by night, a stocking all the day !" 

It is to be regretted that this poetical conception was not 
carried out: like the author's other writings, it might have 
abounded with pictures of life and touches of nature drawn from 
his own observation and experience, and mellowed by his own 
humane and tolerant spirit ; and might have been a worthy com- 
panion or rather contrast to his " Traveller " and " Deserted 
Village," and have remained in the language a first-rate speci- 
men of the mock-heroic. 



124 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XL 

publication of " The Inquiry." — Attacked by Griffiths' Review. — Kenrick the 
literary Ishmaelite. — Periodical literature. — Goldsmith's essays.— Garrick 
as a manager. — Smollett and his schemes. — Change of lodgings. — The 
Robin Hood club. 

Towards the end of March, 1759, the treatise on which Gold- 
smith had laid so much stress, on which he at one time had cal- 
culated to defray the expenses of his outfit to India, and to 
which he had adverted in his correspondence with Griffiths, made 
its appearance. It was published by the Dodsleys, and entitled 
"An Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in 
Europe." 

In the present day, when the whole field of contemporary 
literature is so widely surveyed and amply discussed, and when 
the current productions of every country are constantly collated 
and ably criticised, a treatise like that of Goldsmith would be 
considered as extremely limited and unsatisfactory ; but at that 
time it possessed novelty in its views and wideness in its scope, 
and being indued with the peculiar charm of style inseparable 
from the author, it commanded public attention and a profitable 
sale. As it was the most important production that had yet 
come from Goldsmith's pen, he was anxious to have the credit of 
it ; yet it appeared without his name on the title-page. The 



A LITERARY ISHMAEEITE. 125 



authorship, however, was well known throughout the world of 
letters, and the author had now grown into sufficient literary 
importance to become an object of hostility to the underlings of 
the press. One of the most virulent attacks upon him was in a 
criticism on this treatise, and appeared in the Monthly Review, 
to which he himself had been recently a contributor. It slan- 
dered him as a man while it decried him as an author, and 
accused him, by innuendo, of "laboring under the infamy of 
having, by 'the vilest and meanest actions, forfeited all preten- 
sions to honor and honesty," and of practising "those acts' 
which bring the sharper to the cart's tail or the pillory." 

It will be remembered that the Review was owned by G-rif- 
fiths the bookseller, with whom Goldsmith had recently had a 
misunderstanding. The criticism, therefore, was no doubt dic- 
tated by the lingerings of resentment ; and the imputations upon 
Goldsmith's character for honor and honesty, and the vile and 
mean actions hinted at, could only allude to the unfortunate 
pawning of the clothes. All this, too, was after Griffiths had 
received the affecting letter from Goldsmith, drawing a picture of 
his poverty and perplexities, and after the l3,tter had made him 
a literary compensation. Griffiths, in fact, was sensible of the 
falsehood and extravagance of the attack, and tried to exonerate 
himself by declaring that the criticism was written by a person 
in his employ ; but we see no difference in atrocity between him 
who wields the knife and him who hires the cut-throat. It may 
be well, however, in passing, to bestow our mite of notoriety 
upon the miscreant who launched the slander. He deserves it 
for a long course of dastardly and venomous attacks, not merely 
upon Goldsmith, but upon most of the successful authors of the 
day. His name was Kenrick. He was originally a mechanic, 



126 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



but, possessing some degree of talent and industry, applied 
Himself to literature as a profession. This he pursued for many 
years, and tried his hand in every department of prose and 
poetry ; he wrote plays and satires, philosophical tracts, critical 
dissertations, and works on philology ; nothing from his pen ever 
rose to first-rate excellence, or gained him a popular name, 
though he received from some university the degree of Doctor of 
Laws. Dr. Johnson characterized his literary career in one 
short sentence. " Sir, he is one of the many who have made 
themselves public without making themselves hnownP 

Soured by his own want of success, jealous of the success of 
others, his natural irritability of temper increased by habits of 
intemperance, he at length abandoned himself to the practice of 
reviewing, and became one of the Ishmaelites of the press. In 
this his malignant bitterness soon gave him a notoriety which his 
talents had never been able to attain. We shall dismiss him for 
the present with the following sketch of him by the hand of one 
of his contemporaries : 

" Dreaming of genius which he never had. 
Half wit, half fool, half critic, and half mad ; 
Seizing, like Shirley, on the poet's lyre. 
With all his rage, but not one spark of fire ; 
Eager for slaughter, and resolved to tear 
From other's brows that wreath he must not wear-^ 
Next Kenrick came : all furious and replete 
With brandy, malice, pertness, and conceit ; 
Unskill'd in classic lore, through envy blind 
To all that's beauteous, learned, or refined ; 
For faults alone behold the savage prowl. 
With reason's offal glut his ravening soul ; 



PERIODICAL LITERATURE. 127 



Pleased with his prey, its inmost blood he drinks. 
And mumbles, paws, and turns it — till it stinks." 

The British press about this time was extravagantly fruitful 
of periodical publications. That " oldest inhabitant," the Gen- 
tleman's Magazine, almost coeval with St. John's gate which 
graced its title-page, had long been elbowed by magazines and 
reviews of all kinds : Johnson's Rambler had introduced the 
fashion of periodical essays, which he had followed up in his 
Adventurer and Idler. Imitations had sprung up on every side, 
under every variety of name ; until British literature was en- 
tirely overrun by a weedy and transient efflorescence. Many of 
these rival periodicals choked each other almost at the outset, 
and few of them have escaped oblivion. 

Groldsmith wrote for some of the moat successful, such as the 
Bee, the Busy-Body, and the Lady's Magazine. His essays, 
though characterized by his delightful style, his pure, benevolent 
morality, and his mellow, unobtrusive humor, did not produce 
equal effect at first with more garish writings of infinitely less 
value ; they did not " strike," as it is termed ; but they had that 
rare and enduring merit which rises in estimation on every 
perusal. They gradually stole upon the heart of the public, were 
copied into numerous contemporary publications, and now they 
are garnered up among the choice productions of British liter- 
ature. 

In his Inquiry into the State of Polite Learning, Goldsmith 
had given offence to David Garrick, at that time the autocrat of 
the Drama, and was doomed to experience its effect. A clamor 
had been raised against Garrick for exercising a despotism over 
the stage, and bringing forward nothing but old plays to the 



ISa > .OLIVER GOLDSMITH. -,. ) . 



exclusion of original productions. Walpole joined in this charge. 
"Garrick," said ;he,' '<is treating the town as it deserves and 
likes to be treated ; with scenes, fire-works, and his own ivritings. 
A good new play I never expect to see more; nor have seen 
since the Provoked Husband, which came out when I was at 
school." Groldsmith, who was extremely fond of the theatre, 
and felt the evils of this system, inveighed in his treatise against 
the wrongs experienced by authors at the hands of managers. 
" Our poet's performance," said he, " must undergo a process 
truly chemical before it is presented to the public. It must be 
tried in the manager's fire ; strained through a licenser, suffer 
from repeated corrections, till it may be a mere caput mortumn 
when it arrives before the public." Again. — " Getting a play on 
even in three or four years is a privilege reserved only for the 
happy few who have the arts of courting the manager as well as 
the muse; who have adulation to please his vanity, powerful 
patrons to support their merit, or money to indemnify disap- 
pointment.' Our Saxon ancestors had but one name for a wit 
and a witch. I will not dispute the propriety of uniting those 
characters then ; but the man who under present discouragements 
ventures to write for the stage, whatever claim he may have to 
the appellation of a wit, at least has no right to be called a con- 
jurer." But a passage which perhaps touched more sensibly 
than all the rest on the sensibilities of Garrick, was the fol- 
lowing. 

" I have no particular spleen against the fellow who sweeps 
the stage with the besom, or the hero who brushes it with his 
train. It were a matter of indifference to me, whether our he- 
roines are in keeping, or our candle-snuffers burn their fingers, 
did not such make a great part of public care and polite eonver 



GARRICK AS A MANAGER. 129 



sation. Our actors assume all that state oflF the stage which they 
do on it ; and, to use an expression borrowed from the green- 
room, every one is up in his part. I am sorry to say it, they 
seem to forget their real characters." 

These strictures were considered by Garrick as intended for 
himself, and they were rankling in his mind when Goldsmith 
waited upon him and solicited his vote for the vacant secretary- 
ship of the Society of Arts, of which the manager was a member. 
Garrick, puffed up by his dramatic renown and his intimacy 
with the great, and knowing Goldsmith only by his budding re- 
putation, may not have considered him of sufficient importance 
to be conciliated. In reply to his solicitations, he observed that 
he could hardly expect his friendly exertions after the unprovoked 
attack he had made upon his management. Goldsmith replied 
that he had indulged in no personalities, and had only spoken 
what he believed to be the truth. He made no further apology 
nor application ; failed to get the appointment, and considered 
Garrick his enemy. In the second edition of his treatise he ex- 
punged or modified the passages which had given the manager 
offence ; but though the author and actor became intimate in 
after years, this false step at the outset of their intercourse was 
never forgotten. 

About this time Goldsmith engaged with Dr. Smollett, who 
was about to launch the British Magazine. Smollett was a com- 
plete schemer and speculator in literature, and intent upon enter- 
prises that had money rather than reputation in view. Goldsmith 
has a good-humored hit at this propensity in one of his papers 
in the Bee, in which he represents Johnson, Hume, and others 
taking seats in the stagecoach bound for Fame, while Smollett pre- 
fers that destined for Hiches. 

6* 



130 OLIVER GOLDSMITiH. 



Anotlier prominent employer of Goldsmith was Mr. John 
Newbery, who engaged him to contribute occasional essays to a 
newspaper, en titled -the, Public Ledger, which made its first ap- 
pearance on the 12th of January, 1760. His jpaost valuable and 
characteristic contributions to this paper were his Chinese Let- 
ters, subsequently modified into the Citizen of the World. These 
lucubrations attracted general attention ; they were reprinted in 
the various periodical publications of the day, and met with great 
applause. The name of the author, however, was as yet but little 
known. 

Being now easier in circumstances, and in the receipt of fre- 
quent sums from the booksellers, Groldsmith, about the middle 
of 1760, emerged from his dismal abode in Grreen Arbor Court, 
and took respectable apartments in Wine-Office Court, Fleet- 
street. 

Still he continued to look back with considerate benevolence 
to the poor hostess, whose necessities he had relieved by pawning 
his gala coat, for we are told that " he often supplied her with 
food from his own table, and visited her frequently with the sole 
purpose to be kind to her." 

He now becamei a member of a debating elub, called the 
Robin Hood, which used to meet near Temple Bar, and in which 
Burke, while yet a Temple student, had first tried his powers. 
Groldsmith spoke here occasionally, and is recorded in the Bobin 
Hood archives as " a candid disputant, with a clear head and an 
honest heart, though coming but seldom to the society." His 
relish was for clubs of a more social, jovial nature, and he was 
never fond of argument. An amusing anecdote is told of his 
first introduction to the club, by Samuel Derrick, an Irish ac- 
quaintance of some humor. On entering, Groldsmith was struck 



ANECDOTE. 131 



with the self-important appearance of the chairman ensconced in 
a large gilt chair. " This," said he, " must be the Lord Chancel- 
lor at least." " No, no," replied Derrick, " he's only master of the 
rolls." — The chairman was a baker. 



132 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XII. 

New lodgings. — Visits of ceremony. — Hangers-on. — Pilkington and the white 
mouse. — Introduction to Dr. Johnson. — Davies and his bookshop. — Pretty 
Mrs. Davies. — Foote and his projects. — Criticism of the cudgel. 

In his new lodgings in Wine-Office Court, Groldsmith began to 
receive visits of ceremony, and to entertain his literary friends. 
Among the latter he now numbered several names of note, such 
as Gruthrie, Murphy, Christopher Smart, and Bickerstaff. He 
had also a numerous class of hangers-on, the small fry of litera- 
ture ; who, knowing his almost utter incapacity to refuse a pecu- 
niary request, were apt, now that he was considered flush, to levy 
continual taxes upon his purse. 

Among others, one Pilkington, an old college acquaintance, 
but now a shifting adventurer, duped him in the most ludicrous 
manner. He called on him with a face full of perplexity. A 
lady of the first rank having an extraordinary fancy for curious 
animals, for which she was willing to give enormous sums, he had 
procured a couple of white mice to be forwarded to her from 
India. They were actually on board of a ship in the river. 
Her grace had been apprized of their arrival, and was all impa- 
tience to see them. Unfortunately, he had no cage to put them 
in, nor clothes to appear in before a lady of her rank. Two 



PILKINGTON AND THE WHITE MOUSE. 133 



guineas would be sufficient for his purpose, but where were two 
guineas to be procured ! 

The simple heart of Groldsmith was touched ; but, alas ! he had 
but half a guinea in his pocket. It was unfortunate, but, after 
a pause, his friend suggested, with some hesitation, " that money 
might be raised upon his watch : it would but be the loan of a 
few hours." So said, so done ; the watch was delivered to the 
worthy Mr. Pilkington to be pledged at a neighboring pawn- 
broker's, but nothing farther was ever seen of him, the watch, or 
the white mice. The next that Goldsmith heard of the poor 
shifting scapegrace, he was on his death-bed, starving with want, 
upon which, forgetting or forgiving the trick he had played upon 
him, he sent him a guinea. Indeed he used often to relate with 
great humor the foregoing anecdote of his credulity, and was 
ultimately in some degree indemnified by its suggesting to him 
the amusing little story of Prince Bonbennin and the White 
Mouse in the Citizen of the World. 

In this year Groldsmith became personally acquainted with 
Dr. Johnson, toward whom he was drawn by strong sympathies, 
though their natures were widely different. Both had struggled 
from early life with poverty, but had struggled in different ways. 
Groldsmith, buoyant, heedless, sanguine, tolerant of evils and 
easily pleased, had shifted along by any temporary expedient ; 
cast down at every turn, but rising again with indomitable good- 
humor, and still carried forward by his talent at hoping. John- 
son, melancholy and hypochondriacal, and prone to apprehend the 
worst, yet sternly resolute to battle with and conquer it, had 
made his way doggedly and gloomily, but with a noble principle 
of self-reliance and a disregard of foreign aid. Both had been 
irregular at college, Goldsmith, as we have shown, from the levity 



la* J ■ 1 : 1^ ^ ; I ![ ; ! ^OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



of his nature and his social and convivial habits ; Johnson, from 
his acerbity and gloom. When, in after life, the latter heard' 
himself spoken of as gay and frolicksome at college, because he 
had joined in some riotous excesses there, " Ah, sir !" replied 
he, "I was mad and violent. It was bitterness which they mis- 
took for frolic. I was miserably poar^ and I thought to fight my 
^vay by my literature and my vdt. So I disregarded all power 
and all authority." 

Goldsmith's poverty was never accompanied by bitterness ; 
but neither: was it accompanied by the guardian pride which kept 
Johnson from falling into the degrading shifts of poverty. Grold- 
smith had an unfortunate facility at borrowing, and helping him- 
self along by the contributions of his friends : no doubt trusting, 
in his: hopeful way, of one day making retribution. Johnson 
never hoped, and therefore never borrowed. In his sternest 
trials he proudly bore the ills he could not master. In his youth, 
when some unknown friend, seeing his shoes completely vv^ont ' 
out, left £f, new pair at his chamber door, he disdained to accept 
the boon, and threw them away. 

Though like Groldsmith an immethodical student, he had im- 
bibed deeper draughts of knowledge, and made himself a riper 
scholar; While Goldsmith's happy constitution and genial humors 
carried him abroad into sunshine and enjoyment, Johnson's 
physical infirmities and mental gloom drove him upon himself; 
to the resources of reading and meditation ; threw a deeper 
though darker enthusiasm into his mind, and stored a retentive 
memory with all kinds of knowledge. 

After several years of youth passed in the country as usher, 
teacher, and an occasional writer for the press, Johnson, when 
twenty-eight years of age, came up to London with a half-written 



DR. JOHNSON. 135' 



tragedy in his pocket ; and David G-arrick, late his pupil, and 
several years his junior, as a companion, both poor and penniless, 
both, like Goldsmith, seeking their fortune in the metropolis, 
" We rode and tied," said Garrick sportively in after years of 
prosperity, when he, spoke of their humble wayfaring. " I came 
to London," said Johnson, " with twopence halfpenny in my 
pocket." — " Eh, what's that you say?" cried Garrick, " with two- 
pence halfpenny in your pocket?" "Why, yes: I came with 
twopence halfpenny in my pocket, and thou, Davy, with but 
three halfpence in thine." Nor was there much exaggeration in 
the picture ; for so poor were they in purse and credit, that after 
their arrival they had, with difficulty, raised five pounds, by 
giving their joint note to a bookseller in the Strand. 

Many, many years had Johnson gone on obscurely in London, 
" fighting his way by his literature and his wit ;" enduring all 
the hardships and miseries of a Grub-street writer : so destitute 
at one time, that he and Savage the poet had walked all night 
about St. James's Square, both too poor to pay for a night's 
lodging, yet both full of poetry and patriotism, and determined 
to stand by their country ; so shabby in dress at another time, 
that when he dined at Cave's, his bookseller, when there was 
prosperous company, he could not make his appearance at table, 
but had his dinner handed to him behind a screen. 

Yet through all the long and dreai-y struggle, often diseased 
in mind as well as in body, he had been resolutely self-dependent, 
and proudly self-respectful; he had fulfilled his college vow, 
he had "fought his way by his literature and his wit." His 
" Rambler " and " Idler " had made him the great moralist of 
the age, and his " Dictionary and History of the English Lan- 
guage," that stupendous monument of individual labor, had 



136 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



excited the admiration of the learned world. He was now at the 
head of intellectual society ; and had become as distinguished 
by his conversational as his literary powers. He had become as 
much an autocrat in his sphere as his fellow-wayfarer and adven- 
turer Grarrick had become of the stage, and had been humorously 
dubbed by Smollett, " The Grreat Cham of Literature." 

Such was Dr. Johnson, when on the 31st of May, 1761, he 
was to make his appearance as a guest at a literary supper given 
by Goldsmith, to a numerous party at his new lodgings in Wine- 
Ofl&ce Court. It was the opening of their acquaintance. John- 
son had felt and acknowledged the merit of Groldsmith as an 
author, and been pleased by the honorable mention made of him- 
self in the Bee and the Chinese Letters. Dr. Percy called upon 
Johnson to take him to Groldsmith's lodgings ; he found Johnson 
arrayed with unusual care in a new suit of clothes, a new hat, 
and a well-powdered wig ; and could not but notice his uncom- 
mon spruceness. " Why, sir," replied Johnson, " I hear that 
Groldsmith, who is a very great sloven, justifies his disregard of 
cleanliness and decency by quoting my practice, and I am desir- 
ous this night to show him a better example." 

The acquaintance thus commenced ripened into intimacy in 
the course of frequent meetings at the shop of Davies, the book- 
seller, in Russell-street, Covent Grarden. As this was one of the 
great literary gossiping places of the day, especially to the cir- 
cle over which Johnson presided, it is worthy of some specifica- 
tion. Mr. Thomas Davies, noted in after times as the biographer 
of Grarrick, had originally been on the stage, and though a small 
man, had enacted tyrannical tragedy, with a pomp and magnilo- 
quence beyond his size, if we may trust the desci-iption given of 
him by Churchill in the Rosciad : 



DAVIES AND HIS BOOK-SHOP. 137* 



" Statesman all over — in plots famous grown. 
He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a hone." 

This unlucky sentence is said to have crippled him in the midst 
of his tragic career, and ultimately to have driven him from the 
Btage. He carried into the bookselling craft somewhat of the 
grandiose manner of the stage, and was prone to be mouthy and 
magniloquent. 

Churchill had intimated, that while on the stage he was 
more noted for his pretty wife than his good acting : 

*' With him came mighty Da vies ; on my life, 
That fellow has a very pretty wife." 

' Pretty Mrs. Davies ' continued to be the lode-star of his 
fortunes. Her tea-table became almost as much a literary 
lounge as her husband's shop. She found favor in the eyes of 
the Ursa Major of literature by her winning ways, as she poured 
out for him cups without stint of his favorite beverage. Indeed 
it is suggested that she was one leading cause of his habitual 
resort to this literary haunt. Others were drawn thither for the 
sake of Johnson's conversation, and thus it became a resort of 
many of the notorieties of the day. Here might occasionally be 
seen Bennet Langton, George Steevens, Dr. Percy, celebrated for 
his ancient ballads, and sometimes Warburton in prelatic state. 
Garrick resorted to it for a time, but soon grew shy and suspi- 
cious, declaring that most of the authors who frequented Mr. 
Davies's shop went merely to abuse him. 

Foote, the Aristophanes of the day, was a frequent visitor ; 
his broad face beaming with fun and waggery, and his satirical 
eye ever on the look-out for characters and incidents for his 



138 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



farces. He wa§ struck with the odd habits and appearance of 
Johnson and Groldsmith, now so often brought together in 
Davies's shop. He was about to put on the stage a farce called 
The Orators, intended as a hit at the Robin Hood debating club, 
and resolved to show up the two doctors in it for the entertain- 
ment of the town. 

" What is the common price of an oak stick, sir ?" said John- 
son to Davies. " Sixpence," was the reply. " Why then, sir, 
give me leave to send your servant to purchase a shilling one. 
I'll have a double quantity ; for I am told Foote means to take 
me off as he calls it, and I am determined the fellow shall not 
do it with impunity." 

Foote had no disposition to undergo the criticism of the 
cudgel wielded by such potent hands, so the farce of The Orators 
appeared without the caricatures of the lexicographer and the 
essayist. 



ORIENTAL PROJECTS. 139 



CHAPTER XIIL 

Oriental projects. — Literary jobs. — The Cherokee chiefs. — Merry Islington 
and the White Conduit House. — Letters on the History of England. — 
James Boswell. — Dinner of Davies. — Anecdotes of Johnson and Gold- 
smith. 

Notwithstanding his growing success, Goldsmitli continued to 
consider literature a mere make-shift, and his vagrant imagina- 
tion teemed with schemes and plans of a grand but indefinite 
nature. One was for visiting the East and exploring the interior 
of Asia. He had, as has been before observed, a vague notion 
that valuable discoveries were to be made there, and many useful 
inventions in the arts brought back to the stock of European 
knowledge. " Thus, in Siberian Tartary," observes he, in one of 
his writings, " the natives extract a strong spirit from milk, 
which is a secret probably unknown to the chemists of Europe. 
Id the most savage parts of India they are possessed of the 
secret of dying vegetable substances scarlet, and that of refining 
lead into a metal which, for hardness and color, is little inferior 
to silver." 

Goldsmith adds a description of the kind of person suited to 
Buch an enterprise, in which he evidently had himself in view. 

" He should be a man of philosophical turn, one apt to de- 



140 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



duce consequences of general utility from particular occurrences ; 
neither swoln with pride, nor hardened by prejudice ; neither 
wedded to one particular system, nor instructed only in one 
particular science ; neither wholly a botanist, nor quite an anti- 
quarian ; his mind should be tinctured with miscellaneous know- 
ledge, and his manners humanized by an intercourse with men. 
He should be in some measure an enthusiast to the design ; fond 
of travelling^ from a rapid imagination and an innate love of 
change ; furnished with a body capable of sustaining every 
fatigue, and a heart not easily terrified at danger." 

In 1761, when Lord Bute became prime minister on the 
accession of Geoi-ge the Third, Goldsmith drew up a memorial 
on the subject, suggesting the advantages to be derived from a 
mission to those countries solely for useful and scientific pur- 
poses ; and, the better to insure success, he preceded his applica- 
tion to the government by an ingenious essay to the same effect 
in the Public Ledger. 

■His memorial' and his essay were fruitless, his project most 
probably being deemed the dream of a visionary. Still it con- 
tinued to haunt his mind, and he would often talk of making an 
expedition to Aleppo some time or other, when his means were 
greater, to inquire into the arts peculiar to the East, and to 
bring home such as might be valuable. Johnson, who knew how 
little poor G-oldsmith was fitted by scientific lore for this favorite 
scheme of his fancy, scoffed at the project when it was mentioned 
to him. " Of all men," said he, " Groldsmith is the most unfit 
to go out upon such an inquiry, for he is utterly ignorant of such 
arts as we already possess, and, consequently, could not know 
what would be accessions to our present stock of mechanical 
knowledge. Sir, he would bring home a grinding barrow, which 



THE CHEROKEE CHIEFS. 141 



you see in every street in London, and think that he had fur- 
nished a wonderful improvement." 

His connection with Newbery the bookseller now led him into 
a variety of temporary jobsj such as a pamphlet on the Cock-lane 
Ghost, a Life of Beau Nash, the famous Master of Ceremonies 
at Bath, &c. : one of the best things for his fame, however, was 
the remodelling and republication of his Chinese Letters under 
the title of " the Citizen of the World," a work which has long 
since taken its merited stand among the classics of the English 
language. " Few works," it has been observed by one of his 
biographers, " exhibit a nicer perception, or more delicate de- 
lineation of life and manners. Wit, humor, and sentiment, 
pervade every page ; the vices and follies of the day are touched 
with the most playful and diverting satire ; and English charac- 
teristics, in endless variety, are hit off with the pencil of a 
master." 

In seeking materials for his varied views of life, he often 
mingled in strange scenes and got involved in whimsical situa- 
tions. In the summer of 1762 he was one of the thousands who 
went to see the Cherokee chiefs, whom he mentions in one of his 
writings. The Indians made their appearance in grand costume, 
hideously painted and besmeared. In the course of the visit 
Goldsmith made one of the chiefs a present, who, in the ecstasy 
of his gratitude, gave him an embrace that left his face well 
bedaubed with oil and red ochre. 

Towards the close of 1762 he removed to " merry Islington,',' 
then a country village, though now swallowed up in omniverous 
London. He went there for the benefit of country air, his health 
being injured by literary application and confinement, and to be 
near his chief employer, Mr. Newbery, who resided in the Canon- 



142 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



bury House. In this neigliborhood he used to take his solitary 
rambles, sometimes extending his walks to the gardens of the 
" White Conduit House," so famous among the essayists of the 
last century. While strolling one day in these gardens, he met 
three females of the family of a respectable tradesman to whom 
he was under some obligation. With his prompt disposition to 
oblige, he conducted them about the garden, treated them to tea, 
and ran up a bill in the most open-handed manner imaginable ; 
it was only when he came to pay that he found himself in one 
of his old dilemmas — he had not the wherewithal in his pocket. 
A scene of perplexity now took place between him and the 
waiter, in the midst of which came up some of his acquaintances, 
in whose eyes he wished to stand particularly well. This com- 
pleted his mortification. There was no concealing the awkward- 
ness of his position. The sneers of the waiter revealed it. His 
acquaintances amused themselves for some time at his expense, 
professing their inability to relieve him. When, however, they 
had enjoyed their banter, the waiter was paid, and poor Grold- 
smith enabled to convoy off the ladies with flying colors. 

Among the various productions thrown off by him for the 
booksellers during this growing period of his reputation, was 
a small Avork in two volumes, entitled " the History of Eng- 
land, in a series of Letters from a Nobleman to his Son." It 
was digested from Hume, Eapin, Carte, and Kennet. These 
authors he would read in the morning ; make a few notes ; 
ramble with a friend into the country about the skirts of " merry 
Islington ;" return to a temperate dinner and cheerful evening ; 
and, before going to bed, write off what had arranged itself in 
his head from the studies of the morning. In this way he took 
a more general view of the subject, and wrote in a more free and 



JAMES I30SWELL. 143 



fluent style than if he had been mousing at the time among 
authorities. The work, like many others written by him in 
the earlier part of his literary career, was anonymous. Some 
attributed it to Lord Chesterfield, others to Lord Orrery, and 
others to Lord Lyttelton. The latter seemed pleased to be the 
putative father, and never disowned the bantling thus laid at his 
door ; and well might he have been proud to be considered capa- 
ble of producing what has been well-pronounced " the most 
finished and elegant summary of English history in the same 
compass that has been or is likely to be written." 

The reputation of Goldsmith, it will be perceived, grew 
slowly ; he was known and estimated by a few ; but he had not 
those brilliant though fallacious qualities which flash upon the 
public, and excite loud but transient applause. His works were 
more read than cited ; and the charm of style, for which he was 
especially noted, was more apt to be felt than talked about. He 
used often to repine, in a half-humorous, half-querulous manner, 
at his tardiness in gaining the laurels which he felt to be his due. 
" The public," he would exclaim, "will never do me justice ; when- 
ever I write any thing, they make a point to know nothing about it." 

About the beginning of 1763 he became acquainted with 
Boswell, whose literary gossipings were destined to have a dele- 
terious efi"ect upon his reputation. Boswell was at that time a 
young man, light, buoyant, pushing, and presumptuous. He had 
a morbid passion for mingling in the society of men noted for 
wit and learning, and had just arrived from Scotland, bent upon 
making his way into the literary circles of the metropolis. An 
intimacy with Dr. Johnson, the great literary luminary of the 
day, was the crowning object of his aspiring and somewhat 
ludicrous ambition. He expected to meet him at a dinner to 



144 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



whicli he was invited at Davies the bookseller's, but was disap- 
pointed. Goldsmith was present, but he was not as yet suffi- 
ciently renowned to excite the reverence of Boswell. " At this 
time," says he in his notes, "I think he had published nothing 
with his name, though it" was pretty generally understood that 
one Dr. Goldsmith was the author of ' An Inquiry into the 
Present State of Polite Learning in Europe^' and of ' The 
Citizen of the World,' a series of letters supposed to be written 
from London, by a Chinese." • 

A conversation took place at table between Goldsmith and 
Mr. Robert Dodsley, compiler of the well-known collection of 
modern poetry, as to the merits of the current poetry of the 
day. Goldsmith declared there was none of superior merit. 
Dodsley cited his own collection in proof of the contrary. " It 
is true," said he, " we can boast of no palaces now-a-days, like 
Dryden's Ode to St. Cecilia's Day, but we have villages composed 
of very pretty houses." Goldsmith, however, maintained that 
there was nothing above mediocrity, an opinion in which John- 
son, to whom it was repeated, concurred, and with reason, for the 
era was one of the dead levels of British poetry. 

Boswell has made no note of this conversation; he was an 
unitarian, in his literary devotion, and disposed to worship none 
but Johnson. Little Davies endeavored to console him for his 
disappointment, and to stay the stomach of his curiosity, by 
giving him imitations of the great lexicographer; mouthing his 
words, rolling his head, and assuming as ponderous a manner as 
his petty person would permit. Boswell was shortly afterwards 
made happy by an introduction to Johnson, of whom he became 
the obsequious satellite. From him he likewise imbibed a more 
favorable opinion of Goldsmith's merits, though he was fain to 



JOHNSON AND GOLDSMITH. 145 



consider them derived in a great measure from his Magnus 
Apollo. " He had sagacity enough," says he, " to cultivate assi- 
duously the acquaintance of Johnson, and his faculties were 
gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a model. To 
me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the 
manner of Johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale." So 
on another occasion he calls him " one of the brightest ornaments 
of the Johnsonian school." " His respectful attachment to John- 
son," adds he, " was then at its height ; for his own literary 
reputation had not yet distinguished him so much as to excite a 
vain desire of competition with his great master." 

What beautiful instances does the garrulous Boswell give of 
the goodness of heart of Johnson, and the passing homage to it 
by Goldsmith. They were speaking of a Mr. Levett, long an in- 
mate of Johnson's house and a dependent on his bounty ; but 
who, Boswell thought, must be an irksome charge upon him. 
" He is poor and honest," said Goldsmith, " which is recommen- 
dation enough to Johnson." 

Boswell mentioned another person of a very bad character, 
and wondei'ed at Johnson's kindness to him. '•' He is now be- 
come miserable," said Goldsmith, "and that insures the protec- 
tion of Johnson." Encomiums like these speak almost as much 
for the heart of him who praises as of him wh^) is praised. 

Subsequently, when Boswell had become more intense in his 
literary idolatry, he affected to undervalue Goldsmith, and a 
lurking hostility to him is .dis'eern'ijjle throughoi^^ his wr^jings 
which some have attributed to a silly spirit of jealousy of the 
superior esteem evinced for the poet by Dr. Johnson. We have 
a gleam of this in his account of the first evening he spent in 
company with those two eminent authors at their famous resort, 

7 



146 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



the Mitre Tavern, in Fleet-street. This took place on the 1st of 
July, 1763. The trio supped together, and passed some time in 
literary conversation. On quitting the tavern, Johnson, who had 
now been sociably acquainted with Goldsmith for two years, and 
knew his merits, took him with him to drink tea with his blind 
pensioner. Miss Williams ; a high privilege among his intimates 
and admirers. To Boswell, a recent acquaintance, whose intru- 
sive sycophancy had not yet made its way into his confidential 
intimacy, he gave no invitation. Boswell felt it with all the 
jealousy of a little mind. " Dr. Goldsmith," says he, in his me- 
moirs, " being a privileged man, went with him, strutting away, 
and calling to me with an air of superiority, like that of an esote- 
ric over an exoteric disciple of a sage of antiquity, ' I go to Miss 
Williams.' I confess I then envied him this mighty privilege, of 
which he seemed to be so proud ; but it was not long before I 
obtained the same mark of distinction." 

Obtained ! but how ? not like Goldsmith, by the force of unpre- 
tending but congenial merit, but by a course of the most push- 
ing, contriving, and spaniel-like subserviency. Really, the ambi- 
tion of the man to illustrate his mental insignificance, by con- 
tinually placing himself in juxtaposition with the great lexi- 
cographer, has something in it perfectly ludicrous. Never, 
since the days of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, has there been 
presented to the world a more whimsically contrasted pair of as- 
sociates than Johnson and Boswell. 

" Who is this Scotch cur at Johnson's heels ?" asked some 
one when Boswell had worked his way ijito incessant companion- 
ship. " He is not a cur," replied Goldsmith, " you are too 
severe ; he is only a bur. Tom Davies flung him at Johnson in 
sport, and he has the faculty of sticking." 



HOGARTH'S VISIT AT ISLINGTON. 147 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Hogarth a visitor at Islington — his character. — Street studies. — Sympathies 
between authors and painters. — Sir Joshua Reynolds — his character — his 
dinners. — The Literary Club — its members. — Johnson's revels with Lanky 
and Beau. — Goldsmith at the club. 

Among the intimates who used to visit the poet occasionally in 
his retreat at Islington, was Hogarth the painter. Goldsmith 
had spoken well of him in his essays in the Public Ledger, and 
this formed the first link in their friendship. He was at this 
time upwards of sixty years of age, and is described as a stout, 
active, bustling little man, in a sky-blue coat, satirical and dogma- 
tic, yet full of real benevolence and the love of human nature. 
He was the moralist and philosopher of the pencil ; like Gold- 
smith he had sounded the depths of vice and misery, without 
being polluted by them ; and though his picturings had not 
the pervading amenity of those of the essayist, and dwelt 
more on the crimes and vices, than the follies and humors of man- 
kind, yet they were all calculated, in like manner, to fill the mind 
with instruction and precept, and to make the heart better. 

Hogarth does not appear to have had much of the rural feel- 
ing with which Goldsmith was so amply endowed, and may not 
have accompanied him in his strolls about hedges and green 
lanes ; but he was a fit companion with whom to explore the 



148 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



mazes of London, in which he was continually on the look-out for 
character and incident. One of Hogarth's admirers speaks of 
having come upon him in Castle-street, engaged in one of his 
street studies, watching two boys who were quarrelling ; patting 
one on the back who flinched, and endeavoring to spirit him up 
to a fresh encounter. " At him again ! D — him, if I would 
take it of him ! at him again !" 

A frail memorial of this intimacy between the painter and 
the poet exists in a portrait in oil, called ' Groldsmith's Hostess.' 
It is supposed to have been painted by Hogarth in the course of 
his visits to Islington, and given by him to the poet as a means 
of paying his landlady. There are no friendships among men of 
talents more likely to be sincere than those between painters and 
poets. Possessed of the same qualities of mind, governed by the 
same principles of taste and natural laws of grace and beauty, 
but applying them to different yet mutually illustrative arts, they 
are constantly in sympathy, and never in collision with each 
other. 

A still more congenial intimacy of the kind was that con- 
tracted by Groldsmith with Mr. afterwards Sir Joshua Keynolds. 
The latter was now about forty years of age, a few years older 
than the poet, whom he charmed by the blandness and benignity 
of his manners, and the nobleness and generosity of his disposi- 
tion, as much as he did by the graces of his pencil and the 
magic of his coloring. They were men of kindred genius, excel- 
ling in corresponding qualities of their several arts, for style in 
writing is what color is in painting ; both are innate endow- 
ments, and equally magical in their effects. Certain graces and 
harmonies of both may be acquired by diligent study and imita- 
tion, but only in a limited degree ; whereas by their natural 



. > •• 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 149 



possessors they are exercised spontaneously, almost unconscious- 
ly, and with evei'-varying fascination. Reynolds soon under- 
stood and appreciated the merits of Groldsmith, and a sincere 
and lasting friendship ensued between them. 

At Reynolds's house Goldsmith mingled in a higher range of 
company than he had been accustomed to. The fame of this 
celebrated artist, and his amenity of manners, were gathering 
round him men of talents of all kinds, and the increasing afflu- 
ence of his circumstances enabled him to give full indulgence to 
his hospitable disposition. Poor Goldsmith had not yet, like 
Dr. Johnson, acquired reputation enough to atone for his exter- 
nal defects and his want of the air of good society. Miss Rey- 
nolds used to inveigh against his personal appearance, which gave 
her the idea, she said, of a low mechanic, a journeyman tailor. 
One evening at a large supper party, being called upon to give 
as a toast, the ugliest man she knew, she gave Dr. Goldsmith, 
upon which q, lady who sat opposite, and whom she had never 
met before, shook hands with her across the table, and " hoped 
to become better acquainted." 

We have a graphic and amusing picture of Reynolds's hos- 
pitable but motley establishment, in an account given by a Mr. 
Courtenay to Sir James Mackintosh ; though it speaks of a time 
after Reynolds had received the honor of knighthood. " There 
was something singular," said he, " in the style and economy of 
Sir Joshua's table that contributed to pleasantry and good- 
humor, a coarse, inelegant plenty, without any regard to order 
and arrangement. At five o'clock precisely, dinner was served, 
whether all the invited guests had arrived or not. Sir Joshua 
was never so fashionably ill-bred as to wait an hour perhaps for 



150 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



two or three persons of rank or title, and ptit the rest of the com- 
pany out of humor by this invidious distinction. His invita- 
tions, however, did not regulate the number of his gxiests. Many 
dropped in uninvited. A table prepared for seven or eight was 
often compelled to contain fifteen or sixteen. There was a con- 
sequent deficiency of knives, forks, plates, and glasses. The 
attendance was in the same style, and those who were knowing 
in the ways of the house took care on sitting down to call 
instantly for beer, bread or wine, that they might secure a 
supply before the first course was over. He was once prevailed 
on to furnish the table with decanters and glasses at dinner, to 
save time and prevent confusion. These gradually were de- 
molished in the course of service, and were never replaced. 
These trifling embarrassments, however, only served to enhance 
the hilarity and singular pleasure of the entertainment. The 
wine, cookery and dishes were but little attended to ; nor was 
the fish or venison ever talked of or recommended. Amidst this 
convivial animated bustle among his guests, our host sat per- 
fectly composed ; always attentive to what was said, never mind- 
ing what was ate or drank, but left every one at perfect liberty 
to scramble for himself" 

Out of the casual but frequent meeting of men of talent at 
this hospitable board rose that association of wits, authors, 
scholars, and statesmen, renowned as the Literary Club. Rey- 
nolds was the first to propose a regular association of the kind, 
and was eagerly seconded by Johnson, who proposed as a model 
a club which he had formed many years previously in Ivy Lane, 
but which was now extinct. Like that club the number of mem- 
bers was limited to nine. They were to meet and sup together 



THE LITERARY CLUB. 151 



once a week, on Monday night, at the Turk's Head on G-erard- 
street, Soho, and two members were to constitute a meeting. It 
took a regular form in the year 1764, but did not receive its 
literary appellation until several years afterwards. 

The original members were Reynolds, Johnson, Burke, Dr. 
Nugent, Bennet Langton, Topham Beauclerc, Chamier, Hawkins, 
and Goldsmith ; and here a few words concerning some of the 
members may be acceptable. Burke was at that time about 
thirty-three years of age ; he had mingled a little in politics and 
been Under Secretary to Hamilton at Dublin, but was again a 
writer for the booksellers, and as yet but in the dawning of his 
fame. Dr. Nugent was his father-in-law, a Roman Catholic, and 
a physician of talent and instruction. Mr. afterwards Sir John 
Hawkins was admitted into this association from having been a 
member of Johnson's Ivy Lane club. Originally an attorney, 
he had retired from the practice of the law, in consequence of a 
large fortune which fell to him in right of his wife, and was now 
a Middlesex magistrate. He was, moreover, a dabbler in litera- 
ture and music, and was actually engaged on a history of music, 
which he subsequently published in five ponderous volumes. To 
him we are also indebted for a biography of Johnson, which 
appeared after the death of that eminent man. Hawkins was as 
mean and parsimonious as he was pompous and conceited. He 
forbore to partake of the suppers at the club, and begged there- 
fore to be excused from paying his share of the reckoning. 
" And was he excused ?" asked Dr. Burney of Johnson. " Oh 
yes, for no man is angry at another for being inferior to himself. 
We all scorned him and admitted his plea. Yet I really believe 
him to be an honest man at bottom, though to be sure he is penu- 
rious, and he is mean, and it must be owned he has a tendency 



152 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



to savageness." He did not remain above two or three years in 
the club ; being in a manner elbowed out in consequence of his 
rudeness to Burke. 

Mr. Anthony Chamier was Secretary in the war office, and 
a friend of Beauclerc, by whom he was proposed. We have left 
our mention of Bennet Langton and Topham Beauclerc until the 
last, because we have most to say about them. They were doubt- 
less induced to join the club through their devotion to Johnson, 
and the intimacy of these two very young and aristocratic 
young men with the stern and somewhat melancholy moralist i& 
among the curiosities of literature. 

Bennet Langton was of an ancient family, who held their 
ancestral estate of Langton in Lincolnshire, a great title to 
respect with Johnson. " Langton, sir," he would say, " has a 
grant of free-warren from Henry the Second ; and Cardinal 
Stephen Langton, in King John's reign, was of this family." 

Langton was of a mild, contemplative, enthusiastic nature. 
When but eighteen years of age he was so delighted with read- 
ing Johnson's Rambler, that he came to London chiefly with a 
view to obtain an introduction to the author. Boswell gives us 
an account of his first interview, which took place in the morning. 
It is not often that the personal appearance of an author agrees 
with the preconceived ideas of his admirer. Langton, from 
perusing the writings of Johnson, expected to find him a decent, 
well dressed, in short a remarkably decorous philosopher. Instead 
of which, down from his bedchamber about noon, came, as newly 
risen, a large uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which scarcely 
covered his head, and his clothes hanging loose about him. But 
his conversation was so rich, so animated, and so forcible, and 
his religious and political notions so congenial with those in 



LANGTON AND BEAUCLERC. 153 



which Langton had been educated, that he conceived for him 
that veneration and attachment which he ever preserved. 

Langton went to pursue his studies at Trinity College, Ox- 
ford, where Johnson saw much of him during a visit which he 
paid to the University. He found him in close intimacy with 
Topham Beauclerc, a youth two years older than himself, very 
gay and dissipated, and wondered what sympathies could draw two 
young men together of such opposite characters. On becoming 
acquainted with Beauclerc he found that, rake though he was, 
he possessed an ardent love of literature, an acute understand- 
ing, polished wit, innate gentility and high aristocratic breeding. 
He was, moreover, the only son of Lord Sidney Beauclerc and 
grandson of the Duke of St. Albans, and was thought in some 
particulars to have a resemblance to Charles the Second. These 
were high recommendations with Johnson, and when the youth 
testified a profound respect for him and an ardent admiration of 
his talents the conquest was complete, so that in a " short time," 
says Boswell, " the moral pious Johnson and the gay dissipated 
Beauclerc were companions." 

The intimacy begun in college chambers was continued when 
the youths 'came to town during the vacations. The uncouth, 
unwieldy moralist, was flattered at finding himself an object of 
idolatry to two high-born, high-bred, aristocratic young men, and 
throwing gravity aside, was ready to join in their vagaries and 
play the part of a ' young man upon town.' Such at least is the 
picture given of him by Boswell on one occasion when Beauclerc 
and Langton having supped together at a tavern determined to 
give Johnson a rouse at three o'clock in the morning. They 
accordingly rapped violently at the door of his chambers in the 
Temple. The indignant sage sallied forth in his shirt, poker in 



154 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



hand, and a little black wig on the top of his head, instead of 
helmet ; prepared to wreak vengeance on the assailants of his 
castle : but when his two young friends, Lankey and Beau, as he 
used to call them, presented themselves, summoning him 
forth to a morning ramble, his whole manner changed. " What, 
is it you, ye dogs ?" cried he. " Faith, I'll have a frisk with 
you !" 

So said so done. They sallied forth together into Covent- 
Grarden ; figured among the green grocers and fruit women, just 
come in from the country with their hampers ; repaired to a 
neighboring tavern, where Johnson brewed a bowl of bishop, a 
favorite beverage with him, grew merry over his cups, and ana- 
thematized sleep in two lines, from Lord Lansdowne's drinking 
song: 

" Short, very short, be then thy reign, 
For I'm in haste to laugh and drink again." 

They then took boat again, rowed to Billingsgate, and Johnson 
and Beauclerc determined, like " mad wags," to " keep it up" for 
the rest of the day. Langton, however, the most sober-minded 
of the three, pleaded an engagement to breakfast with some young 
ladies ; whereupon the great moralist reproached him with " leav- 
ing his social friends to go and sit with a set of wretched un-idea'd 
girls." 

This madcap freak of the great lexicographer made a sensa- 
tion, as may well be supposed, among his intimates. " I heard 
of your frolic t'other night," said Garrick to him ; " you'll be in 
the Chronicle." He uttered worse forebodings to others. " I 
shall have my old friend to bail out of the round-house," said he. 
Johnson, however, valued himself upon having thus enacted a 
chapter in the Rake's Progress, and crowed over Garrick on the 



LANGTON AND BEAUCLERC. 155 



occasion. " He durst not do such a thing !" chuckled he, " his 
ivife would not let him !" 

When these two young men entered the club, Langton was 
about twenty-two, and Beauclerc about twenty-four years of age, 
and both were launched on London life. Langton, however, was 
still the mild, enthusiastic scholar, steeped to the lips in Greek, 
with fine conversational powers, and an invaluable talent for 
listening. He was upwards of six feet high, and very spare. 
" Oh ! that we could sketch him," exclaims Miss Hawkins, in 
her Memoirs, " with his mild countenance, his elegant features, 
and his sweet smile, sitting with one leg twisted round the other, 
as if fearing to occupy more space than was equitable ; his per- 
son inclining forward, as if wanting strength to support his weight, 
and his arms crossed over his bosom, or his hands locked toge- 
ther on his knee." Beauclerc, on such occasions, sportively com- 
pared him to a stork in Raphael's Cartoons, standing on one leg. 
Beauclerc was more a " man upon town," a lounger in St. James's 
Street, an associate with George Selwyn, with Walpole, and other 
aristocratic wits ; a man of fashion at court ; a casual frequenter 
of the gaming-table ; yet, with all this, he alternated in the easiest 
and happiest manner the scholar and the man of letters ; lounged 
into the club with the most perfect self-possession, bringing with 
him the careless grace and polished wit of high-bred society, but 
making himself cordially at home among his learned fellow 
members. 

The gay yet lettered rake maintained his sway over Johnson, 
who was fascinated by that air of the world, that ineffable tone 
of good society in which he felt himself deficient, especially as 
the possessor of it always paid homage to his superior talent. 
" Beauclerc," he would say, using a quotation from Pope, " has a 



156 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



love of folly, but a scorn of fools ; every thing he does shows the 
one, and every thing he says the other." Beauclerc delighted in 
rallying the stern moralist of whom others stood in awe, and no 
one, according to Boswell, could take equal liberty with him with 
impunity. Johnson, it is well known, was often shabby and neg- 
ligent in his dress, and not over cleanly in his person. On re- 
ceiving a pension from the crown, his friends vied with each other 
in respectful congratulations. Eeauclerc simply scanned his per- 
son with a whimsical glance, and hoped that, like Falstaff, " he'd 
in future purge and live cleanly like a gentleman." Johnson 
took the hint with unexpected good humor, and profited by it. 

Still Beauclerc's satirical vein, which darted shafts on every 
side, was not always tolerated by Johnson. " Sir," said he on 
one occasion, " you never open your mouth but with intention to 
give pain ; and you have often given me pain, not from the power 
of what you have said, but from seeing your intention." 

When it was at first proposed to enroll Goldsmith among the 
members of this association, there seems to have been some de- 
mur ; at least so says the pompous Hawkins. " As he wrote for 
the booksellers, we of the club looked on him as a mere literary 
drudge, equal to the task of compiling and ti-anslating, but little 
capable of original and still less of poetical composition." 

Even for some time after his admission, he continued to be 
regarded in a dubious light by some of the members. Johnson 
and Reynolds, of course, were well aware of his merits, nor was 
Burke a stranger to them; but to the others he was as yet a 
sealed book, and the outside was not prepossessing. His un- 
gainly person and awkward manners were against him with men 
accustomed to the graces of society, and he was not sufficiently at 
home to give play to his humor and to that bonhommie which 



SATIRICAL SUPERVISION. 157 



won the hearts of all who knew him. He felt strange and out 
of place in this new sphere ; he felt at times the cool satirical 
eye of the courtly Beauclere scanning him, and the more he at- 
tempted to appear at his ease, the more awkward he became. 



158 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Johnson a monitor to Goldsmith — finds him in distress with his landlady- 
relieved by the Vicar of Wakefield. — The oratorio. — Poem of the Travel- 
ler. — The poet and his dog. — Success of the poem. — Astonislmient of the 
club. — Observations on the poem. 

Johnson had now become one of Groldsmitli's best friends and 
advisers. He knew all the weak points of his character, but he 
knew also his merits ; and while he would rebuke him like a child, 
and rail at his errors and follies, he would suffer no one else to 
undervalue him. Groldsmith knew the soundness of his judgment 
and his practical benevolence, and often sought his counsel and 
aid amid the difl&culties into which his heedlessness was continu- 
ally plunging him. 

" I received one morning," says Johnson, " a message from 
poor Groldsmith that he was in great distress, and, as it was not 
in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him 
as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come 
to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was dressed, 
and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at 
which he was in a violent passion : I perceived that he had 
already changed my guinea, and had a bottle of Madeira and a 
glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 159 



would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which 
he might be extricated. He then told me he had a novel ready 
for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it and 
saw its merit ; told the landlady I should soon return ; and, 
having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought 
Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without 
rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill." 

The novel in question was the " Vicar of Wakefield :" the 
bookseller to whom Johnson sold it M^as Francis Newbery, 
nephew to John. Strange as it may seem, this captivating work, 
which has obtained and preserved an almost unrivalled popularity 
in various languages, was so little appreciated by the bookseller, 
that he kept it by him for nearly two years unpublished ! 

Goldsmith had, as yet, produced nothing of moment in po- 
etry. Among his literary jobs, it is true, was an Oratorio entitled 
" The Captivity," founded on the bondage of the Israelites in 
Babylon. It was one of those unhappy offsprings of the muse 
ushered into existence amid the distortions of music. Most of 
the Oratorio has passed into oblivion ; but the following song 
from it will never die. 

The wretch condemned from Ufe to part, 

Still, still on hope relies. 
And every pang that rends the heart 

Bids expectation rise. 

Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, 

Illumes and cheers our way ; 
And still, as darker grows the night. 

Emits a brighter ray. 

• 



160 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Goldsmith distrusted his qualifications to succood in poetry, 
and doubted the disposition of the public mind in regard to it. 
" I fear,' said ho, " I have come too late into the world ; Popo 
and other poets have taken up the places in the temple of Fame ; 
and as few at any period can possess poetical reputation, a man 
of genius can now hardly acquire it." Again, on another occa- 
sion, he observes : " Of all kinds of ambition, as things are now 
circumstanced, perhaps that which pursues poetical fame is the 
wildest. What from the increased refinement of the times, from 
the diversity of judgment produced by opposing SYstems of criti- 
cism, and from the more prevalent divisions of opinion inilueuced 
by pjirty, the strongest and happiest etlbrts can expect to please 
but in a very narrow circle." 

At this very time ho had by lum his poem of " The Travel- 
ler." The plan of it, as has already been observed, was conceived 
many years before, during liis travels in Switzerland, and a 
sketch of it sent from that country to his brother Henry in Ire- 
land. Tlie original outline is said to liave embraced a wider 
scope ; but it was })robably contracted through diffidence, in the 
process of finishing the parts. It had laid by him for several 
years in a crude state, and it was wifli extreme hesitation and 
after much revision that he at length submitted it to Dr. John- 
son. The frank and warm approbation of the latter encouraged 
him to finish it for the }>ress ; and Dr. Johnson himself contri- 
buted a few lines towards the conclusion. 

We hear much about " poetic inspiration," and the " poet's 
eye in a fine phrensy rolling ;" but Sir Joshua Reyuolds gives 
an anecdote of Cloldsmith while engaged upon his poem, calcu- 
lated to cure our notions about the ardor of composition. Call- 



THE POET AND HIS DOG. ICl 

ing upon the poet one day, lie opened the door without ceremony, 
and found him in the doable occupation of turning a couplet and 
teaching a pet dog to sit upon his haunches. At one time he 
would glance his eye at his desk, and at another shake his finger 
at the dog to make him retain his position. The last lines on 
the page were still wet ; they form a part of the description of 
Italy: 

" By Hporls likf; these are all their cares beguiled. 
The KporlH of children Hatisfy the child." 

Goldsmith, with his usual good-humor, joined in the laugh caused 
hy his whimsical employment, and acknowledged that his boyish 
sport with the dog suggested the stanza. 

The poem was published on the 19th of December, 1704, in 
a quarto form, by Newbery, and was the first of his works to 
which Goldsmith prefixed his name. As a testimony of cherished 
and well-merited aflPcction, he dedicated it to his brother Henry. 
There is an amusing affectation of indifference as to its fate ex- 
pressed in the dedication. " What reception a poem may find," 
says he, " which has neither abuse, party, nor blank verse to 
support it, I cannot tell, n^'ara I solicitous to know." The 
truth is, no one was more emulous and anxious for poetic fame ; 
and never was he more anxious than in the present instance, for 
it was his grand stake. Dr. Jo^son aided the launching of the 
poem by a favorable notice in the Critical Review ; other peri- 
odical works came out in its favor. Some of the author's friends 
complained that it did not command instant and wide popular- 
ity ; that it was a poem to win, not to strike : it went on rapidly 
increasing in favor ; in three months a second edition was issued* 



162 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



shortly afterwards, a third ; then a fourth ; and, before the year 
was out, the author was pronounced the best poet of his time. 

The appearance of "The Traveller" at once altered Gold- 
smith's intellectual standing in the estimation of society ; but its 
effect upon the club, if we may judge from the account given by 
Hawkins, was almost ludicrous. They were lost in astonishment 
that a "newspaper essayist" and "bookseller's drudge" should 
have written such a poem. On the evening of its announcement 
to them Goldsmith had gone away early, after " rattling away as 
usual," and they knew not how to reconcile his heedless garrulity 
with the serene beauty, the easy grace, the sound good sense, 
and the occasional elevation of his poetry. They could scarcely 
believe that such magic numbers had flowed from a man to whom 
in general, says Johnson, " it was with difliculty they could give 
a hearing." " Well," exclaimed Chamier, " I do believe he wrote 
this poem himself, and let. me tell you, that is believing a great 
deal." 

At the next meeting of the club, Chamier sounded the au- 
thor a little about his poem. " Mr. Goldsmith," said he, " what 
do you mean by the last word in the first line of your Traveller, 
' remote, unfriended, melancholly, sm.v V do you mean tardiness of 
locomotion ?" — " Yes," replied Goldsmith, inconsiderately, being 
probably flurried at the moment. " No, sir," interposed his 
protecting friend Johnson, " you did not mean tardiness of loco- 
motion ; you meant that sluggishness of mind which comes upon 
a man in solitude." — "Ah," exclaimed Goldsmith, '■'■that was 
what I meant." Chamier immediately believed that Johnson 
himself had written the line, and a rumor became prevalent that 
he was the author of many of the finest passages. This was 



CRITICAL GOSSIP. 163 



ultimately set at rest by Johnson himself, who marked with a 
pencil all the verses he had contributed, nine in number, inserted 
towards the conclusion, and by no means the best in the poem. 
He moreover, with generous warmth, pronounced it the finest 
poem that had appeared since the days of Pope. 

But one of the highest testimonials to the charm of the poem 
was given by Miss Reynolds, who had toasted poor Goldsmith as 
the ugliest man of her acquaintance. Shortly after the appear- 
ance of " The Traveller," Dr. Johnson read it aloud from begin- 
ning to end in her presence. " Well," exclaimed she, when he 
had finished, " I never more shall think Dr. Goldsmith ugly !" 

On another occasion, when the merits of " The Traveller" 
were discussed at Reynolds's board, Langton declared "there was 
not a bad line in the poem, not one of Drydcn's careless verses." 
" I was glad," observed Reynolds, " to hear Charles Fox say it 
was one of the finest poems in the English language." " Why 
was you glad ?" rejoined Langton, " you surely had no doubt of 
this before." " No," interposed Johnson, decisively ; " the merit 
of 'The Traveller' is so well established that Mr. Fox's praise 
cannot augment it, nor his censure diminish it." 

Boswell, who was absenfr from England at the time of the 
publication of the Traveller, was astonished, on his return, to find 
Goldsmith, whom he had so much undervalued, suddenly elevated 
almost to a par with his idol. He accounted for it by concluding 
that much both of the sentiments and expression of the poem, 
had been derived from conversations with Johnson. " He imi- 
tates you, sir," said this incarnation of toadyism. " Why no, sir," 
replied Johnson, " Jack Hawksworth is one of my imitators, 
but not Goldsmith. Goldy, sir, has great merit." " But, sir, he 



164 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



is mucli indebted to you for his getting so high in the public 
estimation." " Why, sir, he has, perhaps, got sooner to it by hig 
intimacy with me." 

The poem went through several editions in the course of the 
first year, and received some few additions and corrections from 
the author's pen. It produced a golden harvest to Mr. Newbery, 
but all the remuneration on record, doled out by his niggard 
hand to the author, was twenty guineas ! 



NEW LODGINGS. 165 



CHAPTER XVI. 

New lodgings. — Johnson's compliment. — A titled patron. — The poet at Nor- 
thumberland House. — His independence of the great. — The Countess of 
Northumberland. — Edwin and Angelina. — Gosfield and Lord Clare. — Pub- 
lication of Essays. — Evils of a rising reputation. — Hangers-on. — Job writ- 
ing. — Goody Two-shoes. — A medical campaign. — Mrs. Sidebotham. 

Goldsmith, now that he was rising in the world, and becoming a 
notoriety, felt himself called upon to improve his style of living. 
He accordingly emerged from Wine-Office Court, and took cham- 
bers in the Temple. It is true they were but of humble preten- 
sions, situated on what was then the library staircase, and it 
would appear that he was a kind of inmate with Jeffs, the butler 
of the society. Still he was in the Temple, that classic region 
rendered famous by the Spectator and other essayists, as the 
abode of gay wits and thoughtful men of letters ; and which, with 
its retired courts and embowered gardens, in the very heart of a 
noisy metropolis, is, to the quiet-seeking student and author, an 
oasis freshening with verdure in the midst of a desert. Johnson, 
who had become a kind of growling supervisor of the poet's affairs, 
paid him a visit soon after he had installed himself in his new 
quarters, and went prying about the apartment, in his near-sighted 
manner, examining every thing minutely. Goldsmith was fidget- 



166 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



ed Iby this curious scrutiny, and apprehending a disposition to 
find fault, exclaimed, with the air of a man who had money in 
both pockets, " I shall soon be in better chambers than these." 
The harmless bravado drew a reply from Johnson, which touched 
the chord of proper pride. " Nay, sir," said he, " never mind that. 
Nil te qu£esiveris extra" — implying that his reputation rendered 
him independent of outward show. Happy would it have been for 
poor Goldsmith, could he have kept this consolatory compliment 
perpetually in mind, and squared his expenses accordingly. 

Among the persons of rank who were struck with the merits 
of the Traveller was the Earl (afterwards Duke) of Northumber- 
land. He procured several other of Groldsmith's writings, the 
perusal of which tended to elevate the author in his good opinion, 
and to gain for him his good will. The earl held the office of Lord 
Lieutenant of Ireland, and understanding Goldsmith was an 
Irishman, was disposed to extend to him the patronage which his 
high post afforded. He intimated the same to his relative. Dr. 
Percy, who, he found, was well acquainted with the poet, and ex- 
pressed a wish that the latter should wait upon him. Here, then, 
was another opportunity for Goldsmith to better his fortune, had 
he been knowing and worldly enough to profit by it. Unluck- 
ily the path to fortune lay through the aristocratical mazes of 
Northumberland House, and the poet blundered at the outset. 
The following is the account he used to give of his visit : — " I 
dressed myself in the best manner I could, and, after studying 
some compliments I thought necessary on such an occasion, pro- 
ceeded to Northumberland House, and acquainted the servants 
that I had particular business with the duke. They showed me 
into an antechamber, where, after waiting some time, a gentleman, 
very elegantly dressed, made his appearance : taking him for the 



VISIT TO NORTHUMBERLAND HOUSE. 167 



duke, I delivered all the fine things I had composed in order to 
compliment him on the honor he had done me ; when, to my great 
astonishment, he told me I had mistaken him for his master, who 
would see me immediately. At that instant the duke came into 
the apartment, and I was so confounded on the occasion, that I 
wanted words barely sufficient to express the sense I entertained 
of the duke's politeness, and went away exceedingly chagrined at 
the blunder I had committed." 

Sir John Hawkins, in his life of Dr. Johnson, gives some far- 
ther particulars of this visit, of which he was, in part, a witness. 
" Having one day," says he, " a call to make on the late Duke, 
then Earl, of Northumberland, I found Goldsmith waiting for an 
audience in an outer room : I asked him what had brought him 
there ; he told me, an invitation from his lordship. I made my 
business as short as I could, and, as a reason, mentioned that Dr. 
Goldsmith was waiting without. The earl asked me if I was 
acquainted with him. I told him that I was, adding what I 
thought was most likely to recommend him. I retired, and stayed 
in the outer room to take him home. Upon his coming out, I 
asked him the result of his conversation. ' His lordship,' said 
he, ' told me he had read my poem, meaning the Traveller, and 
was much delighted with it ; that he was going to be lord-lieute- 
nant of Ireland, and that hearing I was a native of that country, 
he should be glad to do me any kindness.' ' And what did you 
answer,' said I, ' to this gracious offer V ' Why,' said he, ' I could 
say nothing but that I had a brother there, a clergyman, that 
stood in need of help : as for myself, I have no great dependence 
on the promises of great men ; I look to the booksellers for sup- 
port ; they are my best friends, and I am not inclined to forsake 
them for others.' " " Thus," continues Sir John, " did this idiot 



168 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



in the affairs of the world trifle with his fortunes, and put back 
the hand that was held out to assist him." 

We cannot join with Sir John in his worldly sneer at the 
conduct of Goldsmith on this occasion. While we admire that 
honest independence of spirit which prevented him from asking 
favors for himself, we love that warmth of affection which instantly 
sought to advance the fortunes of a brother : but the peculiar 
merits of poor Groldsmith seem to have been little understood by 
the Hawkinses, the Boswells, and the other biographers of the day. 

After all, the introduction to Northumberland House, did 
not prove so complete a failure as the humorous account given 
by Groldsmith, and the cynical account given by Sir John Haw- 
kins, might lead one to suppose. Dr. Percy, the heir male of the 
ancient Percies, brought the poet into the acquaintance of his 
kinswoman, the countess ; who, before her marriage with the 
earl, was in her own right heiress of the House of Northumber- 
land. " She was a lady," says Boswell, " not only of high dig- 
nity of spirit, such as became her noble blood, but of excellent 
understanding and lively talents." Under her auspices a poem 
of Groldsmith's had an aristocratical introduction to the world. 
This was the beautiful ballad of " the Hermit," originally pub- 
lished under the name of " Edwin and Angelina." It was sug- 
gested by an old English ballad beginning " Gentle Herdsman," 
shown him by Dr. Percy, who was at that time making his famous 
collection, entitled " Reliques of Ancient English Poetry," 
which he submitted to the inspection of Goldsmith prior to pub- 
lication. A few copies only of the Hermit were printed at first, 
with the following title-page : " Edwin and Angelina : a Ballad. 
By Mr. Goldsmith. Printed for the Amusement of the Countess 
of Northumberland." 



GOSFORD AND LORD CLARE. 169 



All this, though it may not have been attended with any 
immediate pecuniary advantage, contributed to give Goldsmith's 
name and poetry the high stamp of fashion, so potent in Eng- 
land : the circle at Northumberland House, however, was of too 
stately and aristocratical a nature to be much to his taste, and 
we do not find that he became familiar in it. 

He was much more at home at Gosfield, the seat of his 
countryman, Robert Nugent, afterwards Baron Nugent and Vis- 
count Clare, who appreciated his merits even more heartily than 
the Earl of Northumberland, and occasionally made him his 
guest both in town and country. Nugent is described as a jovial 
voluptuary, who left the Roman Catholic for the Protestant reli- 
gion, with a view to bettering his fortunes ; he had an Irishman's 
inclination for rich widows, and an Irishman's luck with the sex ; 
having been thrice married, and gained a fortune with each wife. 
He was now nearly sixty, with a remarkably loud voice, broad Irish 
brogue, and ready, but somewhat coarse wit. With all his occa- 
sional coarseness he was capable of high thought, and had pro- 
duced poems which showed a truly poetic vein. He was long a 
member of the House of Commons, where his ready wit, his 
fearless decision, and good-humored audacity of expression, 
always gained him a heai mg, though his tall person and awkward 
manner gained him the nickname of Squire Gawky, among the 
political scribblers of the day. With a patron of this jovial tem- 
perament, Goldsmith probably felt more at ease than with those 
of higher refinement. 

The celebrity which Goldsmith had acquired by his poem of 
" The Traveller," occasioned a resuscitation of many of his mis- 
cellaneous and anonymous tales and essays from the various 
newspapers and other transient publications in which they lay 



170 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



dormant. These lie published in 1765, in a collected form, under 
the title of " Essays by Mr. Goldsmith." " The following Es- 
says," observes he. in his preface, "have already appeared at dif- 
ferent times, and in different publications. The pamphlets in 
which they were inserted being generally unsuccessful, these 
shared the common fate, without assisting the booksellers' aims, 
or extending the author's reputation. The public were too stre- 
nuously employed with their own follies to be assiduous in esti- 
mating mine ; so that many of my best attempts in this way have 
fallen victims to the transient topic of the times — the Grhost in 
Cock-Lane, or the Siege of Ticonderoga. 

" But, though they have passed pretty silently into the world, 
I can by no means complain of their circulation. The maga- 
zines and papers of the day have indeed been liberal enough in 
this respect. Most of these essays have been regularly reprinted 
twice or thrice a year, and conveyed to the public through the 
kennel of some engaging compilation. If there be a pride in 
multiplied editions, I have seen some of my labors sixteen times 
reprinted, and claimed by different parents as their own. I have 
seen them flourished at the beginning with praise, and signed at 
the end with the names of Philautos, Philalethes, Phileleutheros, 
and Philanthropes. It is time, however, at last to vindicate my 
claims ; and as these entertainers of the public, as they call 
themselves, have partly lived upon me for some years, let me 
now try if I cannot live a little upon myself" 

It was but little, in fact, for all the pecuniary emolument he 
received from the volume was twenty guineas. It had a good 
circulation, however, was translated into French, and has main- 
tained its stand among the British classics. 

Notwithstanding that the reputation of Goldsmith had great- 



NEWBERY AND GOODY TWO SHOES. 171 



ly risen, his finances were often at a very low ebb, owing to hia 
heedlessness as to expense, his liability to be imposed upon, and 
a spontaneous and irresistible propensity to give to every one 
who asked. The very rise in his reputation had increased these 
embarrassments. It had enlarged his circle of needy acquaint- 
ances, authors poorer in pocket than himself, who came in search 
of literary counsel ; which generally meant a guinea and a break- 
fast. And then his Irish hangers-on ! " Our Doctor," said one 
of these sponges, " had a constant levee of his distressed country- 
men, whose wants, as far as he was able, he always relieved ; and 
he has often been known to leave himself without a guinea, in 
order to supply the necessities of others." 

This constant drainage of the purse therefore obliged him to 
undertake all jobs proposed by the booksellers, and to keep up a 
kind of running account with Mr. Newbery ; who was his banker 
on all occasions, sometimes for pounds, sometimes for shillings ; 
but who was a rigid accountant, and took care to be amply 
repaid in manuscript. Many effusions, hastily penned in these 
moments of exigency, were published anonymously, and never 
claimed. Some of them have but recently been traced to his pen ; 
while of many the true authorship will probably never be dis- 
covered. Among others, it is suggested, and with great proba- 
bility, that he wrote for Mr. Newbery the famous nursery story 
of "Goody Two Shoes," which appeared in 1765, at a moment 
when Goldsmith was scribbling for Newbery, and much pressed 
for funds. Several quaint little tales introduced in his Essays 
show that he had a turn for this species of mock history ; and 
the advertisement and title-page bear the stamp of his sly and 
playful humor. 

" We are desired to give notice, that there is in the press, 



172 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



and speedily will be published, eitber by subscription or other- 
wise, as the public shall please to determine, the History of Little 
G-oody Two Shoes, otherwise Mrs. Margery Two Shoes ; with the 
means by which she acquired learning and wisdom, and, in con- 
sequence thereof, her estate ; set forth at large for the benefit of 
those 

" Who, from a state of rags and care, 
And having shoes but half a pair. 
Their fortune and their fame should fix. 
And gallop in a coach and six." 

The world is probably not aware of the ingenuity, humor, 
good sense, and sly satire contained in many of the old English 
nursery-tales. They have evidently been the sportive produc- 
tions of able writers, who would not trust their names to pro- 
ductions that might be considered beneath their dignity. The 
ponderous works on which they relied for immortality have 
perhaps sunk into oblivion, and carried their names down with 
them ; while their unacknowledged offspring. Jack the Giant 
Killer, Giles Gingerbread, and Tom Thumb, flourish in wide- 
spreading and never-ceasing popularity. 

As Goldsmith had now acquired popularity and an extensive 
acquaintance, he attempted, with the advice of his friends, to 
procure a more regular and ample support by resuming the 
medical profession. He accordingly launched himself upon the 
town in style ; hired a man-servant ; replenished his wardrobe 
at considerable expense, and appeared in a professional wig and 
cane, purple silk small-clothes, and a scarlet roquelaure buttoned 
to the chin : a fantastic garb, as we should think at the present 
day, but not unsuited to the fashion of the times. 



MRS. SIDEBOTHAM. 173 



With his sturdy little person thus arrayed in the unusual 
magnificence of purple and fine linen, and his scarlet roquelaure 
flaunting from his shoulders, he used to strut into the apart- 
ments of his patients swaying his three-cornered hat in one hand 
and his medical sceptre, the cane, in the other, and assuming an 
air of gravity and importance suited to the solemnity of his wig ; 
at least, such is the picture given of him by the waiting gentle- 
woman who let him into the chamber of one of his lady patients. 

He soon, however, grew tired and impatient of the duties and 
restraints of his profession ; his practice was chiefly among his 
friends, and the fees were not suificient for his maintenance ; he 
was disgusted with attendance on sick-chambers and capricious 
patients, and looked back with longing to his tavern haunts and 
broad convivial meetings, from which the dignity and duties of 
his medical calling restrained him. At length, on prescribing to 
a lady of his acquaintance who, to use a hackneyed phrase, " re- 
joiced" in the aristocratical name of Sidebotham, a warm dispute 
arose between him and the apothecary as to the quantity of 
medicine to be administered. The doctor stood up for the 
rights and dignities of his profession, and resented the interfe- 
rence of the compounder of drugs. His rights and dignities, 
however, were disregarded ; his wig and cane and scarlet roque- 
laur were of no avail ; Mrs. Sidebotham sided with the hero of 
the pestle and mortar ; and Goldsmith flung out of the house in 
a passion. " I am determined henceforth," said he to Topham 
Beauclerc, "to leave off prescribing for friends." " Do so, my 
dear doctor," was the reply ; " whenever you undertake to kill, 
let it be only your enemies." 

This was the end of Groldsmith's medical career. 



174 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Publication of the Vicar of Wakefield — opinions concerning it — of Dr. John- 
son — of Rogers the poet — of Goethe — its merits. — Exquisite extract.— 
Attack by Kenrick. — Reply. — Book building. — Project of a comedy. 

The success of the poem of " The Traveller," and the popularity 
which it had conferred on its author, now roused the attention of 
the bookseller in whose hands the novel of " The Vicar of Wake- 
field " had been slumbering for nearly two long years. The idea 
has generally prevailed that it was Mr. John Newbery to whom the 
manuscript had been sold, and much surprise has been expressed 
that he should be insensible to its merit and sujffer it to remain 
unpublished, while putting forth various inferior writings by the 
same author. This, however, is a mistake ; it was his nephew, 
Francis Newbery, who had become the fortunate purchaser. 
Still the delay is equally unaccountable. Some have imagined 
that the uncle and nephew had business arrangements together, 
in which this work was included, and that the elder Newbery, 
dubious of its success, retarded the publication until the full 
harvest of " The Traveller" should be reaped. Booksellers are 
prone to make egregious mistakes as to the merit of works in 
manuscript ; and to undervalue, if not reject, those of classic and 
enduring excellence, when destitute of that false brilliancy com- 
monly called "effect." In the present instance, an intellect 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 175 



vastly superior to that of either of the booksellers was equally at 
fault. Dr. Johnson, speaking of the work to Boswell, some time 
subsequent to its publication, observed, " I myself did not think 
it would have had much success. It was written and sold to a 
bookseller before " The Traveller," but published after, so little 
expectation had the bookseller from it. Had it been sold after 
" The Traveller," he might have had twice as much money ; 
though sixty guineas was no mean priced 

Sixty guinQ3,s for the Vicar of Wakefield ! and this could be 
pronounced no meayi price by Dr. Johnson, at that time the 
arbiter of British talent, and who had had an opportunity of 
witnessing the effect of the work upon the public mind ; for its 
success was immediate. It came out on the 27th of March, 1766 ; 
before the end of May a second edition was called for ; in three 
months moro,' a third ; and so it went on, widening in a popu- 
larity that has never flagged. Rogers, the Nestor of British 
literature, whose refined purity of taste and exquisite mental 
organization, rendered him eminently calculated to appreciate a 
work of the kind, declared that of all the books, which through 
the fitful changes of three generations he had seen rise and fall, 
the charm of the Vicar of Wakefield had alone continued as at 
first ; and could he revisit the world after an interval of many 
more generations, he should as surely look to find it undiminished. 
Nor has its celebrity been confined to Glreat Britain. Though so 
exclusively a picture of British scenes and manners, it has been 
translated into almost every language, and every where its charm 
has been the same. Groethe, the great genius of Germany, de- 
clared in his eighty-first year, that it was his delight at the age 
of twenty, that it had in a manner formed a part of his educa- 
tion, influencing his taste and feelings throughout life, and that 



176 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



he had recently read it again from beginning to end — ^with re- 
newed delight, and with a grateful sense of the early benefit 
derived from it. 

It is needless to expatiate upon the qualities of a work which 
has thus passed from country to country, and language to lan- 
guage, until it is now known throughout the whole reading world 
and is become a household book in every hand. The secret of 
its universal and enduring popularity is undoubtedly its truth 
to nature, but to nature of the most amiable kiicd ; to nature 
such as Groldsmith saw it. The author, as we have occasionally 
shown in the course of this memoir, took his scenes and charac- 
ters in this, as in his other writings, from originals in his own 
motley experience ; but he has given them as seen through the 
medium of his own indulgent eye, and has set them forth with 
the colorings of his own good head and heart, ^^et how con- 
tradictory it seems that this, one of the most delightful pictures 
of home and homefelt happiness should be drawn by a homeless 
man ; that the most amiable picture of domestic virtue and all 
the endearments of the married state should be drawn by a 
bachelor, who had been severed from domestic life almost from 
boyhood ; that one of the most tender, touching, and affecting 
appeals on behalf of female loveliness, should have been made 
by a man whose deficiency in all the graces of person and 
manner seemed to mark him out for a cynical disparager of 
the sex. 

We cannot refrain from transcribing from the work a short 
passage illustrative of what we have said, and which within a 
wonderfully small compass comprises a world of beauty of 
imagery, tenderness of feeling, delicacy and refinement of 
thought, and matchless purity of style. The two stanzas which 



WOMAN'S WRONGS. 177 



conclude it, in which are told a whole history of woman's wrongs 
and suiFerings, is, for pathos, simplicity and euphony, a gem in 
the language. The scene depicted is where the poor Vicar is 
gathering around him the wrecks of his shattered family, and 
endeavoring to rally them back to happiness. 

" The next morning the sun arose with peculiar warmth for 
the season, so that we agreed to breakfast together on the honey- 
suckle bank ; where, while we sat, my youngest daughter at my 
request joined her voice to the concert on the trees about us. 
It was in this place my poor Olivia first met her seducer, and 
every object served to recall her sadness. But that melancholy 
which is excited by objects of pleasure, or inspired by sounds of 
harmony, soothes the heart instead of corroding it. Her mother, 
too, upon this occasion, felt a pleasing distress, and wept, and 
loved her daughter as before. ' Do, my pretty Olivia,' cried 
she, ' let us have that melancholy air your father was so fond 
of; your sister Sophy has already obliged us. Do, child, it will 
please your old father.' She complied in a manner so exquisite- 
ly pathetic as moved me. 

" ' When lovely woman stoops to folly, 
And finds too late that men betray. 
What charm can soothe her melancholy. 
What art can wash her guilt away ? 

The only art her guilt to cover. 

To hide her shame from every eye. 
To give repentance to her lover. 

And wring his bosom — is to die.' " 

Scarce had the Vicar of Wakefield made its appearance and 
been received with acclamation, than its author was subjected to 



178 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



one of the usual penalties that attend success. He was attacked 
in the newspapers. In one of the chapters he had introduced 
his ballad of the Hermit, of which, as we have mentioned, a few 
copies had been printed some considerable time previously for 
the use of the Countess of Northumberland. This brought 
forth the following article in a fashionable journal of the day : 

" To the Printer of tlie St. James's Chrojiick. 

• 

" Sir, — In the Reliques of Ancient Poetry, published about 
two years ago, is a very beautiful little ballad, called ' A Friar of 
Orders Gray.' The ingenious editor, Mr. Percy, supposes that 
the stanzas sung by Ophelia in the play of Hamlet were parts 
of some ballad well known in Shakspeare's time, and from these 
stanzas, with the addition of one or two of his own to connect 
them, he has formed the above-mentioned ballad ; the subject of 
which is, a lady comes to a convent to inquire for her love who 
had been driven there by her disdain. She is answered by a 
friar that he is dead : 

" ' No, no, he is dead, gone to his death's bed. 
He never will come again.' 

The lady weeps and laments her cruelty ; the friar endeavors to 
comfort her with morality and religion, but all in vain ; she ex- 
presses the deepest grief and the most tender sentiments of love, 
till at last the friar discovers himself : 

" ' And lo ! beneath this gown of gray 
Thy own true love appears.' 

" This catastrophe is very fine, and the "whole, joined with 



NEWSPAPER ATTACK. 179 



the greatest tenderness, has the greatest simplicity ; yet, though 
this ballad was so recently published in the Ancient Reliques, 
Dr. Goldsmith has been hardy enough to publish a poem called 
' the Hermit,' where the circumstances and catastrophe are ex- 
actly the same, only with this difference, that the natural sim- 
plicity and tenderness of the original are almost entirely lost in 
the languid smoothness and tedious paraphrase of the copy, 
which is as*short of the merits of Mr. Percy's ballad as the 
insipidity of negus is to the genuine flavor of champagne. 
" I am, sir, yours, &c., 

" Detector." 

This attack, supposed to be by Goldsmith's constant persecu- 
tor, the malignant Kenrick, drew from him the following note 
to the editor : 

" Sir, — As there is nothing I dislike so much as newspaper 
controversy, particularly upon trifles, permit me to be as concise 
as possible in informing a correspondent of yours that I re- 
commended Blainville's travels because I thought the book was 
a good one ; and I think so still. I said I was told by the book- 
seller that it was then first published ; but in that it seems I 
was misinformed, and my reading was not extensive enough to 
set me right. 

" Another correspondent of yours accuses me of having taken 
a ballad I published some time ago, from one by the ingenious 
Mr. Percy. I do not think there is any great resemblance be- 
tween the two pieces in question. If there be any, his ballad 
was taken from mine. I read it to Mr. Percy some years ago ; 
and he, as we both considered these things as trifles at best, told 
me, with his usual good-humor, the next time I saw him, that he 



180 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



had taken my plan to form the fragments of Shakspeare into a 
ballad of his own. He then read me his little Cento, if I may 
so call it, and I highly approved it. Such petty anecdotes as 
these are scarcely worth printing ; and, were it not for the busy 
disposition of some of your correspondents, the public should 
never have known that he owes me the hint of his ballad, or that 
I am obliged to his friendship and learning for communications 
of a much more important nature. * 

" I am, sir, yours, &e., 

" Oliver Goldsmith." 

The unexpected circulation of the " Vicar of Wakefield," 
enriched the publisher, but not the author. Groldsmith no doubt 
thought himself entitled to participate in the profits of the re- 
peated editions ; and a memorandum, still extant, shows that he 
drew upon Mr. Francis Newbery, in the month of June, for fif- 
teen guineas, but that the bill was returned dishonored. He 
continued, therefore, his usual job-work for the booksellers, wri- 
ting introdvictions, prefaces, and head and tail pieces for new 
works ; revising, touching up, and modifying travels and voy- 
ages ; making compilations of prose and poetry, and "building 
books," as he sportively termed it. These tasks required little 
labor or talent, but that taste and touch which are the magic of 
gifted minds. His terms began to be proportioned to his celeb- 
rity. If his price was at any time objected to, " Why, sir," he 
would say, " it may seem large ; but then a man may be many 
years working in obscurity before his taste and reputation are 
fixed or estimated ; and then he is, as in other professions, only 
paid for his previous labors." 

He was, however, prepared to try his fortune in a different 



SENTIMENTAL COMEDY. 181 



walk of literature from any he had yet attempted. We have 
repeatedly adverted to his fondness for the drama ; he was a fre- 
quent attendant at the theatres ; though, as we have shown, he 
considered them under gross mismanagement. He thought, too, 
that a vicious taste prevailed among those who wrote for the 
stage. " A new species of dramatic composition," says he, in 
one of his essays, " has been introduced under the name of senti- 
mental comedy^ in which the virtues of private life are exhibited 
rather than the vices exposed ; and the distresses rather than 
the faults of mankind make our interest in the piece. In these 
plays almost all the characters are good, and exceedingly gene- 
rous : they are lavish enough of their tin money on the stage ; 
and though they want humor, have abundance of sentiment and 
feeling. If they happen to have faults or foibles, the spectator 
is taught not only to pardon, but to applaud them in considera- 
tion of the goodness of their hearts ; so that folly, instead of 
being ridiculed, is commended, and the comedy aims at touching 
our passions, without the power of being truly pathetic. In this 
manner we are likely to lose one great source of entertainment 
on the stage ; for while the comic poet is invading the province 
of the tragic muse, he leaves her lively sister quite neglected. 
Of this, however, he is no ways solicitous, as he measures his 
fame by his profits. * * # * 

" Humor at present seems to be departing from the stage ; 
and it will soon happen that our comic players will have nothing 
left for it but a fine coat and a song. It depends upon the 
audience whether they will actually drive those poor merry crea- 
tures from the stage, or sit at a play as gloomy as at the taber- 
nacle. It is not easy to recover an art when once lost ; and it 
will be a just punishment, that when, by our being too fastidious, 



182 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



we have banished hiimor from the stage, we should ourselves be 
deprived of the art of laughing." 

Symptoms of reform in the drama had recently taken place. 
The comedy of the Clandestine Marriage, the joint production 
of Colman and Grarrick, and suggested by Hogarth's inimitable 
pictures of Marriage a la mode, had taken the town by storm, 
crowded the theatre with fashionable audiences, and formed one 
of the leading literary topics of the year. Groldsmith's emula- 
tion was roused by its success. The comedy was in what he 
considered the legitimate line, totally different from the senti- 
mental school ; it presented pictures of real life, delineations of 
character and touches of humor, in which he felt himself calcu- 
lated to excel. The consequence was, that in the course of this 
year (1766), he commenced a comedy of the same class, to be 
entitled the Grood Natured Man, at which he diligently wrought 
whenever the hurried occupation of ' book building ' allowed him 
leisure. 



SOCIAL POSITION OF GOLDSMITH. 183 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Social position of Goldsmith — his colloquial contests with Johnson. — Anec- 
dotes and illustrations. 

The social position of Goldsmith had undergone a material 
change since the publication of The Traveller. Before that 
event he was but partially known as the author of some clever 
anonymous writings, and had been a tolerated member of the 
club and the Johnson circle, without much being expected from 
him. Now he had suddenly risen to literary fame, and become 
one of the lions of the day. The highest regions of intellectual 
society were now open to him ; but he was not prepared to move 
in them with confidence and success. Ballymahon had not been 
a good school of manners at the outset of life ; nor had his expe- 
rience as a ' poor student ' at colleges and medical schools con- 
tributed to give him the polish of society. He had brought from 
Ireland, as he said, nothing but his " brogue and his blunders," 
and they had never left him. He had travelled, it is true ; but 
the Continental tour which in those days gave the finishing grace to 
the education of a patrician youth, had, with poor Goldsmith, been 
little better than a course of literary vagabondizing. It had en- 
riched his mind, deepened and widened the benevolence of his 
heart, and filled his memory with enchanting pictures, but it had 



184 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



contributed little to disciplining him for the polite intercourse of 
the world. His life in London had hitherto been a struggle with 
sordid cares and sad humiliations. " You scarcely can conceive," 
wrote he some time previously to his brother, " how much eight 
years of disappointment, anguish, and study, have worn me 
down," Several more years had since been added to the term 
during which he had trod the lowly walks of life. He had been 
a tutor, an apothecary's drudge, a petty physician of the suburbs, 
a bookseller's hack, drudging for daily bread. Each separate 
walk had been beset by its peculiar thorns and humiliations. It 
is wonderful how his heart retained its gentleness and kindness 
through all these trials ; how his mind rose above the " mean- 
nesses of poverty," to which, as he says, he was compelled to 
submit ; but it would be still more wonderful, had his manners 
acquired a tone corresponding to the innate grace and refinement 
of his intellect. He was near forty years of age when he pub- 
lished The Traveller, and was lifted by it into celebrity. As is 
beautifully said of him by one of his biographers, " he has fought 
his way to consideration and esteem ; but he bears upon him the 
scars of his twelve years' conflict ; of the mean sorrows through 
which he has passed ; and of the cheap indulgences he has sought 
relief and help from. There is nothing plastic in his nature 
now. His manners and habits are completely formed ; and in 
them any further success can make little favorable change, what- 
ever it may effect for his mind or genius."* 

We are not to be surprised, therefore, at finding him make an 
awkward figure in the elegant drawing-rooms which were now open 
to him, and disappointing those who had formed an idea of him 
from the fascinating ease and gracefulness of his poetry. 

* Forster's Goldsmith. 



JOHNSON'S CONVERSATION. 185 



Even the literary club, and the circle of which it formed a 
part, after their surprise at the intellectual flights of which he 
showed himself capable, fell into a conventional mode of judging 
and talking of him, and of placing him in absurd and whimsical 
points of view. His very celebrity operated here to his disadvan- 
tage. It brought him into continual comparison with Johnson, 
who was the oracle of that circle and had given it a tone. Con- 
versation was the great staple there, and of this Johnson was a 
master. He had been a reader and thinker from childhood : his 
melancholy temperament, which unfitted him for the pleasures of 
youth, had made him so. For many years past the vast variety of 
works he had been obliged to consult in preparing his Dictionary, 
had stored an uncommonly retentive memory with facts on all 
kinds of subjects ; making it a perfect colloquial armory. " He 
had all his life," says Boswell, " habituated himself to consider 
conversation as a trial of intellectual vigor and skill. He had 
disciplined himself as a talker as well as a writer, making it a 
rule to impart whatever he knew in the most forcible language he 
could put it in, so that by constant practice and never suffering 
any careless expression to escape him, he had attained an extraor- 
dinary accuracy and command of language." 

His common conversation in all companies, according to Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, was such as to secure him universal attention, 
something above the usual colloquial style being always expected 
from him. 

" I do not care," said Orme, the historian of Hindostan, 
" on what subject Johnson talks ; but I love better to hear him 
talk than any body. He either gives you new thoughts or a new 
coloring." 

A stronger and more graphic eulogium is given by Dr. Percy. 



186 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



" The conversation of Johnson," says he, " is strong and clear, 
and may be compared to an antique statue, where every vein and 
muscle is distinct and clear." 

Such was the colloquial giant with which Groldsmith's cele- 
brity and his habits of intimacy brought him into continual com- 
parison ; can we wonder that he should appear to disadvantage ? 
Conversation grave, discursive and disputatious, such as Johnson 
excelled and delighted in, was to him a severe task, and he never 
was good at a task of any kind. He had not, like Johnson, a 
vast fund of acquired facts to draw upon ; nor a retentive me- 
mory to furnish them forth when wanted. He could not, like 
the great lexicographer, mould his ideas and balance his periods 
while talking. He had a flow of ideas, but it was apt to be 
hurried and confused, and as he said of himself, he had contracted 
a hesitating and disagreeable manner of speaking. He used to 
say that he always argued best when he argued alone ; that is to 
say, he could master a subject in his study, with his pen in his 
hand ; but, when he came into company he grew confused, and 
was unable to talk about it. Johnson made a remark concerning 
him to somewhat of the same purport. " No man," said he, " is 
more foolish than G-oldsmith when he has not a pen in his hand, 
or more wise when he has." Yet with all this conscious defi- 
ciency he was continually getting involved in colloquial contests 
with Johnson and other prime talkers of the literary circle. 
He felt that he had become a notoriety ; that he had entered the 
lists and was expected to make fight ; so with that heedlessness 
which characterized him in every thing else he dashed on at a 
venture ; trusting to chance in this as in other things, and hoping 
occasionally to make a lucky hit. Johnson perceived his hap- 
hazard temerity, but gave him no credit for the real diflidence 



GOLDSMITH'S CONVERSATION. 187 



which lay at bottom. " The misfortune of Goldsmith in conver- 
sation," said he, " is this, he goes on without knowing how he is 
to get off. His genius is great, but his knowledge is small. As 
they say of a generous man it is a pity he is not rich, we may 
say of Goldsmith it is a pity he is not knowing. He would not 
keep his knowledge to himself" And, on another occasion, he 
observes : " Goldsmith, rather than not talk, will talk of what he 
knows himself to be ignorant, which can only end in exposing 
him. If in company with two founders, he would fall a talking 
on the method of making cannon, though both of them would 
Boon see that he did not know what metal a cannon is made of." 
And again : " Goldsmith should not be for ever attempting to shine 
in conversation ; he has not temper for it, he is so much mortified 
when he fails. Sir, a game of jokes is composed partly of skill, 
partly of chance ; a man may be beat at times by one who has 
not the tenth part of his wit. Now Goldsmith, putting himself 
against another, is like a man laying a hundred to one, who can- 
not spare the hundred. It is not worth a man's while. A man 
should not lay a hundred to one unless he can easily spare it, 
though he has a hundred chances for him ; he can get but a 
guinea, and he may lose a hundred. Goldsmith is in this state. 
When he contends, if he gets the better, it is a very little addi- 
tion to a man of his literary reputation ; if he does not get the 
better, he is miserably vexed." 

Johnson was not aware how much he was himself to blame in 
producing this vexation. "Goldsmith," said Miss Keynolds 
" always appeared to be overawed by Johnson, particularly when 
in company with people of any consequence ; always as if im- 
pressed with fear of disgrace ; and indeed well he might. I have 



188 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



been witness to many mortifications he has suffered in Dr. John- 
son's company." 

It may not have been disgrace that he feared, but rudeness. 
The great lexicographer, spoiled by the homage of society, was 
still more prone than himself to lose temper when the argument 
went against him. He could not brook appearing to be worsted ; 
but would attempt to bear down his adversary by the rolling 
thunder of his periods ; and, when that failed, would become 
downright insulting. Boswell called it " having recourse to some 
sfldden mode of robust sophistry ;" but Groldsmith designated it 
much more happily. " There is no arguing with Johnson," said 
he, "yw', loheii his pistol misses Jire^ he knocks you down with the 
butt end of itP* 

In several of the intellectual collisions recorded by Boswell 
as triumphs of Dr. Johnson, it really appears to us that Grold- 
smith had the best both of the wit and the argument, and espe- 
cially of the courtesy and good-nature. 

On one occasion he certainly gave Johnson a capital reproof 
as to his own colloquial peculiarities. Talking of fables. Gold- 
smith observed that the animals introduced in them seldom talked 
in character. " For instance," said he, " the fable of the little 
fishes, who saw birds fly over their heads, and, envying them, 
petitioned Jupiter to be changed into birds. The skill consists 
in making them talk like little fishes." Just then observing that 
Dr. Johnson was shaking his sides and laughing, he immediately 

* The following is given by Boswell, as an instance of robust sophistry : — 
"Once, when I was pressing upon him with visible advantage, he stopped me 
thus — ' My dear Boswell, let's have no more of this ; you'll make nothing of it. 
I'd rather hear you whistle a Scotch tune.' " 



THE SHE-BEAR AND THE HE-BEAR. 189 



added, " Why, Dr. Johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to 
think ; for, if you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk 
like whales." 

But though Goldsmith sufiered frequent mortifications in 
society from the overbearing, and sometimes harsh, conduct of 
Johnson, he always did justice to his benevolence. When royal 
pensions were granted to Dr. Johnson and Dr. Shebbeare, a pun- 
ster remarked, that the king had pensioned a sJie-bear and a he- 
hear ; to which Goldsmith replied, " Johnson, to be sure, has a 
roughness in his mnaner, but no man alive has a more tender 
heart. He has nothing of the hear hut the skin." 

Goldsmith, in conversation, shone most when he least thought 
of shining ; when he gave up all effort to appear wise and learned, 
or to cope with the oracular sententiousness of Johnson, and gave 
way to his natural impulses. Even Boswell could perceive his 
merits on these occasions. - " For my part," said he, condescend- 
ingly, " I like very well to hear honest Goldsmith talk away 
carelessly ;" and many a much wiser man than Boswell delighted 
in those outpourings of a fertile fancy and a generous heart. In 
his happy moods, Goldsmith had an artless simplicity and buoy- 
ant good-humor, that led to a thousand amusing blunders and 
whimsical confessions, much to the entertainment of his intimates ; 
yet, in his most thoughtless garrulity, there was occasionally the 
gleam of the gold and the flash of the diamond. 



190 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Social resorts. — The shilling whist club. — A practical joke. — The Wednesday 
club. — The ' tun of man.' — The pig butcher. — Tom King. — Hugh Kelly.— 
Glover and his characteristics. 

Though Groldsmith's pride and ambition led him to mingle occa- 
sionally with high society, and to engage in the colloquial con- 
flicts of the learned circle, in both of which he was ill at ease 
and conscious of being undervalued, yet he had some social re- 
sorts in which he indemnified himself for their restraints by 
indulging his humor without control. One of them was a shilling 
whist club, which held its meetings at the Devil Tavern, near 
Temple Bar, a place rendered classic, we are told, by a club held 
there in old times, to which " rare Ben Jonson " had furnished 
the rules. The company was of a familiar, unceremonious kind, 
delighting in that very questionable wit which consists in playing 
off practical jokes upon each other. Of one of these Groldsmith 
was made the butt. Coming to the club one night in a hackney 
coach, he gave the coachman by mistake a guinea instead of a 
shilling, which he set down as a dead loss, for there was no like- 
lihood, he said, that a fellow of this class would have the honesty 
to return the money. On the next club evening he was told a 
person at the street door wished to speak with him. He went 
forth but soon returned with a radiant countenance. To his sur- 



A PRACTICAL JOKE. 191 



prise and delight the coachman had actually brought back the 
guinea. While he launched forth in praise of this unlooked-for 
piece of honesty, he declared it ought not to go unrewarded. 
Collecting a small sum from the club, and no doubt increasing it 
largely from his own purse, he dismissed the Jehu with many 
encomiums on his good conduct. He was still chanting his 
praises, when one of the club requested a sight of the guinea 
thus honestly returned. To Goldsmith's confusion it proved 
to be a counterfeit. The universal burst of laughter which 
succeeded, and the jokes by which he was assailed on every 
side, showed him that the whole was a hoax, and the pretended 
coachman as much a counterfeit as the guinea. He was so 
disconcerted, it is said, that he soon beat a retreat for the 
evening. 

Another of those free and easy clubs met on Wednesday 
evenings at the Globe Tavern in Fleet-street. It was somewhat in 
the style of the Three Jolly Pigeons : songs, jokes, dramatic imi- 
tations, burlesque parodies and broad sallies of humor, formed a 
contrast to the sententious morality, pedantic casuistry, and 
polished sarcasm of the learned circle. Here a huge ' tun of 
man,' by the name of Gordon, used to delight Goldsmith by 
singing the jovial song of Nottingham. Ale, and looking like a 
butt of it. Here, too, a wealthy pig butcher, charmed, no doubt, 
by the mild philanthropy of The Traveller, aspired to be on the 
most sociable footing with the author, and here was Tom King, the 
comedian, recently risen to consequence by his performance of 
Lord Ogleby in the new comedy of the Clandestine Marriage. 

A member of more note was one Hugh Kelly, a second-rate 
author, who, as he became a kind of competitor of Goldsmith's, 
deserves particular mention. He was an Irishman, about twenty- 



192 OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 



eight years of age, originally apprenticed to a staymaker in Dub- 
lin ; then writer to a London attorney ; then a Grrub-street hack ; 
scribbling for magazines and newspapers. Of late he had set up 
for theatrical censor and satirist, and, in a paper called Thespis, 
in emulation of Churchill's Rosciad, had harassed many of the 
poor actors without mercy, and often without wit ; but had 
lavished his incense on Grarrick, who, in consequence, took him 
into favor. He was the author of several works of superficial 
merit, but which had sufficient vogue to inflate his vanity. This, 
however, must have been mortified on his first introduction to 
Johnson ; after sitting a short time he got up to take leave, ex- 
pressing a fear that a longer visit might be troublesome. " Not 
in the least, sir," said the surly moralist, " I had forgotten you 
were in the room." Johnson used to speak of him as a man who 
had written more than he had read. 

A prime wag of this club was one of Groldsmith's poor coun- 
trymen and hangers-on, by the name of Glover. He had origi- 
nally been educated for the medical profession, but had taken in 
early life to the stage, though apparently without much success. 
While performing at Cork, he undertook, partly in jest, to restore 
life to the body of a malefactor, who had just been executed. 
To the astonishment of every one, himself among the number, 
he succeeded. The miracle took wind. He abandoned the stage, 
resumed the wig and cane, and considered his fortune as secure. 
Unluckily, there were not many dead people to be restored to 
life in Ireland ; his practice did not equal his expectation, so he 
came to London, where he continued to dabble indifferently, and 
rather unprofitably, in physic and literature. 

He was a great frequenter of the Globe and Devil taverns, 
where he used to amuse the company by his talent at story-telling 



THE SOCIAL PIG-BUTCHER. 193 



and his powers of mimicry, giving capital imitations of Garrick, 
Foote, Coleman, Sterne, and other public characters of the day. He 
seldom happened to have money enough to pay his reckoning, but 
was always sure to find some ready purse among those who had been 
amused by his humors. Goldsmith, of course, was one of the 
readiest. It was through him that Glover was admitted to the 
^V^ednesday Club, of which his theatrical imitations became the 
delight. Glover, however, was a little anxious for the dignity of 
his patron, which appeared to him to suifer from the over-fami- 
liarity of some of the members of the club. He was especially 
shocked by the free and easy tone in which Goldsmith was ad- 
dressed by the pig-butcher : " Come, Noll," would he say, as he 
pledged him, " here's my service to you, old boy !" 

Glover whispered to Goldsmith, that he " should not allow 
such liberties." " Let him alone," was the reply, " you'll see how 
civilly I'll let him down." After a time, he called out, with 
marked ceremony and politeness, " Mr. B., I have the honor of 
drinking your good health." Alas ! dignity was not poor Gold- 
smith's forte : he could keep no one at a distance. " Thank'ee, 
thank'ee, Noll," nodded the pig-butcher, scarce taking the pipe 
out of his mouth. " I don't see the effect of your reproof," whis- 
pered Glover. " I give it up," replied Goldsmith, with a good- 
humored shrug, " I ought to have known before now there is no 
putting a pig in the right way." 

Johnson used to be severe upon Goldsmith for mingling in 
these motley circles, observing, that, having been originally poor, 
he had contracted a love for low company. Goldsmith, however, 
was guided not by a taste for what was low, but for what was 
comic and characteristic. It was the feeling of the artist ; the 
feeling which furnished out some of his best scenes in familiar 



194 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



life ; the feeling with wliich " rare Ben Jouson" sought these very 
haunts and circles in days of yore, to study " Every Man in his 
Humor." 

It was not always, however, that the humor of these associates 
was to his taste : as they became boisterous in their merriment, 
he was apt to become depressed. " The company of fools," says 
he, in one of his essays, " may at first make us smile ; but at last 
never fails of making us melancholy." " Often he would become 
moody," says Grlover, " and would leave the party abruptly to go 
home and brood over his misfortune." 

It is possible, however, that he went home for quite a different 
purpose ; to commit to paper some scene or passage suggested for 
his comedy of " The G-ood-natured Man." The elaboration of humor 
is often a most serious task ; and we have never witnessed a more 
perfect picture of mental misery than was once presented to us 
by a popular dramatic writer — still, we hope, living — whom we 
found in the agonies of producing a farce which subsequently set 
the theatres in a roar. 



THE GREAT CHAM AND THE KING. 195 



CHAPTER XX. 

The Great Cham of literature and the King. — Scene at Sir Joshua Reynolds's. 
— Goldsmith accused of jealousy. — Negotiations with Garrick. — The au- 
thor and the actor — their correspondence. 

The comedy of " The Good-natured Man " was completed by 
Goldsmith early in 1767, and submitted to the perusal of John- 
son, Burke, Reynolds, and others of the literary club, by whom 
it was heartily approved. Johnson, who was seldom half way 
either in censure or applause, pronounced it the best comedy 
that had been written since " The Provoked Husband," and 
promished to furnish the prologue. This immediately became 
an object of great solicitude with Goldsmith, knowing the weight 
an introduction from the Great Cham of literature would have 
with the public ; but circumstances occurred which he feared 
might drive the comedy and the prologue from Johnson's 
thoughts. The latter was in the habit of visiting the royal 
library at the Queen's (Buckingham) House, a noble collection 
of books, in the formation of which he had assisted the librarian, 
Mr. Bernard, with his advice. One evening, as he was seated 
there by the fire reading, he was surprised by the entrance of 
the King (George III.), then a young man ; who sought this 
occasion to have a conversation with him. The conversation 
was varied and discursive ; the King shifting from subject to 
subject according to his wont; "during the whole interview," 



196 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



says Boswell, " Johnson talked to his majesty with profound re- 
spect, but still in his open, manly manner, with a sonorous voice, 
and never in that subdued tone which is commonly used at the 
levee and in the drawing-room. ' I found his majesty wished I 
should talk,' said he, ' and I made it my business to talk. I find 
it does a man good to be talked to by his sovereign. In the first 
place, a man cannot be in a passion — .' " It would have been well 
for Johnson's colloquial disputants, could he have often been 
under such decorous restraint. Profoundly monarchical in his 
principles, he retired from the interview highly gratified with the 
conversation of the King and with his gracious behavior. " Sir," 
said he to the librarian, " they may talk of the King as they will, 
but he is the finest gentleman I have ever seen." — " Sir," said he 
subsequently to Bennet Langton, " his manners are those of as 
fine a gentleman as we may suppose Lewis the Fourteenth or 
Charles the Second." 

While Johnson's face was still radiant with the reflex of roy- 
alty, he was holding forth one day to a listening group at Sir 
Joshua Reynolds's, who were anxious to hear every particular of 
this memorable conversation. Among other questions, the King 
had asked him whether he was writing any thing. His reply was, 
that he thought he had already done his part as a writer. " I 
should have thought so too," said the King, "if you had not 
written so well." — "No man," said- Johnson, commenting on this 
speech, " could have made a handsomer compliment ; and it was 
fit for a King to pay. It was decisive." — " But did you make 
no reply to this high compliment ?" asked one of the company. 
" No, sir," replied the profoundly deferential Johnson, " when 
the King had said it, it was to be so. It was not for me to 
bandy civilities with my sovereign." ^ 



BOSWELL AT FAULT. 197 



During all the time that Johnson was thus holding forth, 
Goldsmith, who was present, appeared to take no interest in the 
royal theme, but remained seated on a sofa at a distance, in 
a moody fit of abstraction ; at length recollecting himself, he 
sprang up. and advancing, exclaimed, with what Boswell calls his 
usual " frankness and simplicity," " Well, you acquitted yourself 
in this conversation better than I should have done, for I should 
have bowed and stammered through the whole of it." He after- 
wards explained his seeming inattention, by saying that his mind 
was completely occupied about his play, and by fears lest John- 
son, in his present state of royal excitement, would fail to furnish 
the much-desired prologue. 

How natural and truthful is this explanation. Yet Boswell 
presumes to pronounce Goldsmith's inattention affected ; and 
attributes it to jealousy. " It was strongly suspected," says he, 
" that he was fretting with chagrin and envy at the singular 
honor Dr. Johnson had lately enjoyed." It needed the little- 
ness of mind of Boswell to ascribe such pitiful motives to Gold- 
smith, and to entertain such exaggerated notions of the honor 
paid to Dr. Johnson. 

" The Good-natured Man " was now ready for performance, 
but the question was, how to get it upon the stage. The affairs 
of Covent Garden, for which it had been intended, were thrown 
in confusion by the recent death of Rich, the manager. Drury 
Lane was under the management of Garrick, but a feud, it will 
be recollected, existed between him and the poet, from the ani- 
madversions of the latter on the mismanagement of theatrical 
affairs, and the refusal of the former to give the poet his vote for 
the secretaryship of the Society of Arts. Times, however, were 
changed. Goldsmith when that feud took place was an anony- 



198 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



mous writer, almost unknown to fame, and of no circulation in 
society. Now he had become a literary lion ; he was a member 
of the Literary Club ; he was the associate of Johnson, Burke, 
Topham Beauclerc, and other magnates — in a word, he had risen 
to consequence in the public eye, and of course was of conse- 
quence in the eyes of David Grarrick. Sir Joshua Reynolds saw 
the lurking scruples of pride existing between the author and 
actor, and thinking it a pity that two men of such congenial 
talents, and who might be so serviceable to each other, should be 
kept asunder by a worn-out pique, exerted his friendly offices to 
bring them together. The meeting took place in Reynolds's 
house in Leicester Square. Grarrick, however, could not entirely 
put off the mock majesty of the stage ; he meant to be civil, but 
he was rather too gracious and condescending. Tom Davies, in 
his " Life of Grarrick," gives an amusing picture of the coming 
together of these punctilious parties. " The manager," says he, 
"was fully conscious of his (Groldsmith's) merit, and perhaps 
more ostentatious of his abilities to serve a dramatic author than 
became a man of his prudence ; Goldsmith was, on his side, as 
fully persuaded of his own importance and independent greatness. 
Mr. Garrick, who had so long been treated with the compliment- 
ary language paid to a successful patentee and admired actor, 
expected that the writer would esteem the patronage of his play 
a favor ; Groldsmith rejected all ideas of kindness in a bargain 
that was intended to be of mutual advantage to both parties, and 
in this he was certainly justifiable ; Mr. Garrick could reasonably 
expect no thanks for the acting a new play, which he would have 
rejected if he had not been convinced it would have amply 
rewarded his pains and expense. I believe the manager was 
willing to accept the play, but he wished to be courted to it ; 



NEGOTIATIONS WITH GARRICK. 199 



and the doctor was not disposed to purchase his friendship by 
the resignation of his sincerity." They separated, however, with 
an understanding on the part of Goldsmith that his play would 
be acted. The conduct of Garrick subsequently proved evasive, 
not through any lingerings of past hostility, but from habitual 
indecision in matters of the kind, and from real scruples of deli- 
cacy. He did not think the piece likely to succeed on the stage, 
and avowed that opinion to Reynolds and Johnson ; but hesi- 
tated to say as much to Goldsmith, through fear of wounding his 
feelings. A further misunderstanding was the result of this 
want of decision and frankness ; repeated interviews and some 
correspondence took place without bringing matters to a point, 
and in the meantime the theatrical season passed away. 

Goldsmith's pocket, never well supplied, suffered grievously 
by this delay, and he considered himself entitled to call upon the 
manager, who still talked of acting the play, to advance him forty 
pounds upon a note of the younger Newbery. Garrick readily 
complied, but subsequently suggested certain important altera- 
tions in the comedy as indispensable to its success ; these were 
indignantly rejected by the author, but pertinaciously insisted 
on by the manager. Garrick proposed to leave the matter to the 
arbitration of Whitehead, the laureate, who officiated as his 
" reader " and elbow critic. Goldsmith was more indignant than^ 
ever, and a violent dispute ensued, which was only calmed by the 
interference of Burke and Reynolds. 

Just at this time, order came out of confusion in the affairs 
of Covent Garden. A pique having risen between Colman and 
Garrick, in the course of their joint authorship of " The Clan- 
destine Marriage," the former had become manager and part 
proprietor of Covent Garden, and was preparing to open a 



200 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



powerful competition with his former colleague. On hearing of 
this, Goldsmith made overtures to Colman ; who, without wait- 
ing to consult his fellow proprietors, who were absent, gave 
instantly a favorable reply. Goldsmith felt the contrast of this 
warm, encouraging conduct, to the chilling delays and objections 
of Garrick. He at once abandoned his piece to the discretion of 
Colman. " Dear sir," says he in a letter dated Temple Garden 
Court, July 9th, " I am very much obliged to you for your kind 
partiality in my favor, and your tenderness in shortening the 
interval of my expectation. That the play is liable to many 
objections I well know, but I am happy that it is in hands the 
most capable in the world of removing them. If then, dear sir, 
you will complete your favor by putting the piece into such a 
state as it may be acted, or of directing me how to do it, I shall 
ever retain a sense of your goodness to me. And indeed, though 
most probably this be the last I shall ever write, yet I can't help 
feeling a secret satisfaction that poets for the future are likely 
to have a protector who declines taking advantage of their dread- 
ful situation ; and scorns that importance which may be acquired 
by trifling with their anxieties." 

The next day Goldsmith wrote to Garrick, who was at Litch- 
field, informing him of his having transferred his piece to Covent 
Garden, for which it had been originally written, and by the 
patentee of which it was claimed, observing, " as I found you had 
very great difficulties about that piece. I complied with his desire. 
**#*****j j^jjj extremely sorry that you should 
think me warm at our last meeting ; your judgment certainly 
ought to be free, especially in a matter which must in some mea- 
sure concern your own credit and interest. I assure you, sir, I 
have no disposition to differ with you on this or any other account, but 



GARRICK'S LETTER. 201 



am, with an high opinion of your abilities, and a very real esteem, 
Sir, your most obedient humble servant. Oliver Gtoldsmith." 

In his reply, Garrick observed, " I was, indeed, much hurt that 
your warmth at our last meeting mistook my sincere and friendly 
attention to your play for the remains of a former misunderstand- 
ing, which I had as much forgot as if it had never existed. What I 
said to you at my own house I now repeat, that I felt more pain 
in giving my sentiments than you possibly would in receiving 
them. It has been the business, and ever will be, of my life to 
live on the best terms with men of genius ; and I know that Dr. 
Goldsmith will have no reason to change his previous friendly 
disposition towards me, as I shall be glad of every future oppor- 
tunity to convince him how much I am his obedient servant and 
well-wisher. D. Garrick." 



202 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XXL 

More hack authorship. — Tom Davies and the Roman History. — Canonbury 
Castle. — Political authorship. — Pecuniary temptation.— Death of Newbery 
the elder. 

Though Groldsmith's comedy was now in train to be performed, 
it could not be brought out before Christmas ; in the meantime, 
he must live. Again, therefore, he had to resort to literary jobs 
for his daily support. These obtained for him petty occasional 
sums, the largest of which was ten pounds, from the elder New- 
bery, for an historical compilation ; but this scanty rill of quasi 
patronage, so sterile in its products, was likely soon to cease ; 
Newbery being too ill to attend to business, and having to trans- 
fer the whole management of it to his nephew. 

At this time Tom Davies, the sometime Roscius, sometime 
bibliopole, stepped forward to Goldsmith's relief, and proposed 
that he should undertake an easy popular history of Rome in 
two volumes. An arrangement was soon made. Groldsmith un- 
dertook to complete it in two years, if possible, for two hundred 
and fifty guineas, and forthwith set about his task with cheerful 
alacrity. As usual, he sought a rural retreat during the summer 
months, where he might alternate his literary labors with strolls 
about the green fields. " Merry Islington" was again his resort, 
but he now aspired to better quarters than formerly, and engaged 



CANONBURY CASTLE. 203 



the chambers occupied occasionally by Mr. Newbery, in Canon- 
bury House, or Castle, as it is popularly called. This had been 
a hunting lodge of Queen Elizabeth, in whose time it was sur- 
rounded by parks and forests. In Goldsmith's day, nothing 
remained of it but an old brick tower ; it was still in the country, 
amid rural scenery, and was a favorite nestling-place of authors, 
publishers, and others of the literary order.* A number of these 
he had for fellow occupants of the castle ; and they formed a tem- 
porary club, which held its meetings at the Crown Tavern, on the 
Islington lower road ; and here he presided in his own genial 
style, and was the life and delight of the company. 

The writer of these pages visited old Canonbury Castle some 
years' since, out of regard to the memory of Groldsmith. The 
apartment was still shown which the poet had inhabited, consist- 
ing of a sitting-room and small bedroom, with panneled wain- 
scots and Gothic windows. The quaintness and quietude of the 
place were still attractive. It was one of the resorts of citizens 
on their Sunday walks, who would ascend to the top of the tower 
and amuse themselves with reconnoitring the city through a teles- 
cope. Not far from this tower were the gardens of the White 

* See on the distant slope, majestic shows 
Old Canonbury's tower, an ancient pile 
To various fates assigned ; and where by turns 
Meanness and grandeur have alternate reign'd ; 
Thither, in latter days, hath genius fled 
From yonder city, to respire and die. 
There the sweet bard of Auburn sat, and tuned 
The plaintive moanings of his village dirge. 
There learned Chambers treasured lore for men. 
And Newbery there his A B C's for babes. 



204 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Conduit House, a Cockney Elysium, where Groldsmith used to 
figure in the humbler days of his fortune. In the first edition 
of his Essays he speaks of a stroll in these gardens, where he at 
that time, no doubt, thought himself in perfectly genteel society. 
After his rise in the world, however, he became too knowing to 
Bpeak of such plebeian haunts. In a new edition of his Essays, 
therefore, the White Conduit House and its garden disappears, 
and he speaks of " a stroll in the Park." 

While Groldsmith was literally living from hand to mouth by 
the forced drudgery of the pen, his independence of spirit was 
subjected to a sore pecuniary trial. It was the opening of Lord 
North's administration, a time of great political excitement. 
The public mind was agitated by the question of American taxa- 
tion, and other questions of like irritating tendency. Junius 
and Wilkes and other powerful writers were attacking the admin- 
istration with all their force ; Grrub-street was stirred up to its 
lowest depths ; inflammatory talent of all kinds was in full 
activity, and the kingdom was deluged with pamphlets, lampoons 
and libels of the grossest kinds. The ministry were looking 
anxiously round for literary support. It was thought that the 
pen of Goldsmith might be readily enlisted. His hospitable 
friend and counti'yman, Robert Nugent, politically known as 
Squire Gawky, had come out strenuously for colonial taxation ; 
had been selected for a lordship of the board of trade, and raised 
to the rank of Baron Nugent and Viscount Clare. His exam- 
ple, it was thought, would be enough of itself, to bring Goldsmith 
into the ministerial ranks ; and then what writer of the day was 
proof against a full purse or a pension ? Accordingly one Parson 
Scott, chaplain to Lord Sandwich, and author of Anti Sejanus 
Panurge, and other political libels in support of the administra- 



PECUNIARY TEMPTATION. 205 



tion, was sent to negotiate with the poet, who at this time was 
returned to town. Dr. Scott, in after years, when his political 
subserviency had been rewarded by two fat crown livings, used 
to make, what he considered, a good story out of this embassy to 
the poet. " I found him," said he, " in a miserable suit of cham- 
bers in the Temple. I told him my authority : I told how I was 
empowered to pay most liberally for his exertions ; and, would 
you believe it ! he was so absurd as to say ' I can earn as much as 
will supply my wants without writing for any party ; the assist- 
ance you offer is therefore unnecessary to me ;' — and so I left him 
in his garret !" Who does not admire the sturdy independence 
of poor Goldsmith toiling in his garret for nine guineas the job, 
and smile with contempt at the indignant wonder of the political 
divine, albeit his subserviency was repaid by two fat crown 
livings ? 

Not long after this occurrence, Goldsmith's old friend, though 
frugal-handed employer, Newbery, of picture-book renown, closed 
his mortal career. The poet has celebrated him as the friend of 
all mankind ; he certainly lost nothing by his friendship. He 
coined the brains of his authors in the times of their exigency, 
and made them pay dear for the plank put out to keep them from 
drowning. It is not likely his death caused much lamentation 
among the scribbling tribe ; we may express decent respect for 
the memory of the just, but we shed tears only at the grave of 
the generous. 



206 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Theatrical manceuvring. — The comedy of " False Delicacy." — First perform- 
ance of " The Good-natured Man." — Conduct of Johnson. — Conduct of 
the author. — Intermeddling of the press. 

The comedy of " The Grood-natured Man " was doomed to experi- 
ence delays and difficulties to the very last. Grarrick, notwith- 
standing his professions, had still a lurking grudge against the 
author, and tasked his managerial arts to thwart him in his 
theatrical enterprise. For this purpose he undertook to build 
up Hugh Kelly, Goldsmith's boon companion of the Wednesday 
club, as a kind of rival. Kelly had written a comedy called 
Fahe Delicacy, in which were embodied all the meretricious 
qualities of the sentimental school. G-arrick, though he had 
decried that school, and had brought out his comedy of " The 
Clandestine Marriage " in opposition to it, now lauded " False 
Delicacy" to the skies, and prepared to bring it out at Drury 
Lane with all possible stage effect. He even went so far as to 
write a prologue and epilogue for it, and to touch up some parts 
of the dialogue. He had become reconciled to his former col- 
league, Colman, and it is intimated that one condition in the 
treaty of peace between these potentates of the realms of paste- 
board (equally prone to play into each other's hands with the 
confederate potentates on the great theatre of life) was, that 



THEATRICAL MAN(EUVRING. 207 



Goldsmith's play should be kept back until Kelly's had been 
brought forward. 

In the meantime the poor author, little dreaming of the dele- 
terious influence at work behind the scenes, saw the appointed 
time arrive and pass by without the performance of his play; 
while "False Delicacy" was brought out at Drury Lane (Janu- 
ary 23, 1768) with all the trickery of managerial management. 
Houses were packed to applaud it to the echo ; the newspapers 
vied with each other in their venal praises, and night after night 
seemed to give it a fresh triumph. 

While " False Delicacy " was thus borne on the full tide of 
fictitious prosperity, " The Good-natured Man " was creeping 
through the last rehearsals at Covent Garden. The success of 
the rival piece threw a damp upon author, manager, and actors. 
Goldsmith went about with a face full of anxiety ; Colman's 
hopes in the piece declined at each rehearsal ; as to his fellow 
proprietors, they declared they had never entertained any. All 
the actors were discontented with their parts, excepting Ned 
Shuter, an excellent low comedian, and a pretty actress named 
Miss Walford ; both of whom the poor author ever afterward 
held in grateful recollection. 

Johnson, Goldsmith's growling monitor and unsparing casti- 
gator in times of heedless levity, stood by him at present with that 
protecting kindness with which he ever befriended him in time of 
need. He attended the rehearsals ; he furnished the prologue 
according to promise ; he pish'd and pshaw'd at any doubts and 
fears on the part of the author, but gave him sound counsel, and 
held him up with a steadfast and manly hand. Inspirited by 
his sympathy, Goldsmith plucked up new heart, and arrayed 
himself for the grand trial with unusual care. Ever since his 



208 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



elevation into the polite world, he had improved in his wardrobe 
and toilet. Johnson could no longer accuse him of being shabby 
in his appearance ; he rather went to the other extreme. On 
the present occasion there is an entry in the books of his tailor, 
Mr, William Filby, of a suit of " Tyrian bloom, satin grain, and 
garter blue silk breeches, £8 2s. 7d." Thus magnificently at- 
tired, he attended the theatre and watched the reception of the 
play, and the effect of each individual scene, with that vicissitude 
of feeling incident to his mercurial nature. 

Johnson's prologue was solemn in itself, and being delivered 
by Brinsley in lugubrious tones suited to the ghost in Hamlet, 
seemed to throw a portentous gloom on the audience. Some of 
the scenes met with great applause, and at such times Groldsmith 
was highly elated ; others went off coldly, or there were slight 
tokens of disapprobation, and then his spirits would sink. The 
fourth act saved the piece ; for Shuter, who had the main comic 
character of Croaker, was so varied and ludicrous in his execu- 
tion of the scene in which he reads an incendiary letter, that he 
drew down thunders of applause. On his coming behind the 
scenes, Groldsmith greeted him with an overflowing heart ; de- 
claring that he exceeded his own idea of the character, and made 
it almost as new to him as to any of the audience. 

On the whole, however, both the author and his friends were 
disappointed at the reception of the piece, and considered it a 
failure. Poor Goldsmith left the theatre with his towering hopes 
completely cut down. He endeavored to hide his mortification, 
and even to assume an air of unconcern while among his asso- 
ciates ; but, the moment he was alone with Dr. Johnson, in whose 
rough but magnanimous nature he reposed unlimited confidence, 
he threw off all restraint and gave way to an almost childlike burst 



ODD CONFESSIONS. 209 



of grief. Johnson, who had shown no want of sympathy at the 
proper time, saw nothing in the partial disappointment of over- 
rated expectations to warrant such ungoverned emotions, and re- 
buked him sternly for what he termed a silly affectation, saying 
that " No man should be expected to sympathize with the sor- 
rows of vanity." 

When Goldsmith had recovered from the blow, he, with his 
usual unreserve, made his past distress a subject of amusement 
to his friends. Dining one day, in company with Dr. Johnson, 
at the chaplain's table at St. James's Palace, he entertained the 
company with a particular and comic account of all his feelings 
on the night of representation, and his despair when the piece 
was hissed. How he went, he said, to the Literary Club ; chatted 
gayly, as if nothing had gone amiss ; and, to give a greater idea 
of his unconcern, sang his favorite song about an old woman 
tossed in a blanket seventeen times as high as the moon. . . . 
" All this while," added he, " I was suffering horrid tortures, 
and, had I put a bit in my mouth, I verily believe it would have 
strangled me on the spot, I was so excessively ill : but I made 
more noise than usual to cover all that ; so they never perceived 
my not eating, nor suspected the anguish of my heart ; but, when 
all were gone except Johnson here, I burst out a-crying, and 
even swore that I would never write again." 

Dr. Johnson sat in amaze at the odd frankness and childlike 
self-accusation of poor Goldsmith. When the latter had come to 
a pause, " All this, doctor," said he dryly, " I thought had been 
a secret between you and me, and I am sure I would not have 
said any thing about it for the world." But Goldsmith had no 
secrets : his follies, his weaknesses, his errors were all thrown to 
the surface ; his heart was really too guileless and innocent to 



210 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



seek mystery and concealment. It is too often the false, design- 
ing man that is guarded in his conduct and never offends pro- 
prieties. 

It is singular, however, that Groldsmith, who thus in conversa- 
tion could keep nothing to himself, should be the author of a 
maxim which would inculcate the most thorough dissimulation. 
" Men of the world," says he in one of the papers of the Bee, 
"maintain that the true end of speech is not so much to express 
our wants as to conceal them." How often is this quoted as one 
of the subtle remarks of the fine witted Talleyrand ! 

" The Grood-natured Man " was performed for ten nights in 
succession ; the third, sixth, and ninth nights were for the author's 
benefit ; the fifth night it was commanded by their majesties ; 
after this it was played occasionally, but rarely, having always 
pleased more in the closet than on the stage. 

As to Kelly's comedy, Johnson pronounced it entirely 
devoid of character, and it has long since passed into oblivion. 
Yet it is an instance how an inferior production, by dint of 
puffing and trumpeting, may be kept up for a time on the surface 
of popular opinion, or rather of popular talk. What had been 
done for " False Delicacy " on the stage was continued by the press. 
The booksellers vied with the manager in launching it upon the 
town. They announced that the first impression of three thou- 
sand copies was exhausted before two o'clock on the day of publi- 
cation; four editions, amounting to ten thousand copies, were 
sold in the course of the season ; a public breakfast was given to 
Kelly at the Chapter Coffee-House, and a piece of plate presented 
to him by the publishers. The comparative merits of the two 
plays were continually subjects of discussion in green-rooms, 



INTERMEDDLING OF THE PRESS. 211 



coffee-houses, and other places where theatrical questions were 
discussed. 

Goldsmith's old enemy, Kenrick, that " viper of the press," 
endeavored on this as on many other occasions to detract from 
his well-earned fame ; the poet was excessively sensitive to these 
attacks, and had not the art and self-command to conceal his 
feelings. 

Some scribblers on the other side insinuated that Kelly had 
seen the manuscript of Goldsmith's play, while in the hands of 
Garrick or elsewhere, and had borrowed some of the situations 
and sentiments. Some of the wags of the day took a mischievous 
pleasure in stirring up a feud between the two authors. Gold- 
smith became nettled, though he could scarcely be deemed jealous 
of one so far his inferior. He spoke disparagingly, though no 
doubt sincerely, of Kelly's play : the latter retorted. Still, when 
they met one day behind the scenes of Covent Garden, Goldsmith, 
with his customary urbanity, congratulated Kelly on his success. 
" If I thought you sincere, Mr. Goldsmith," replied the other, 
abruptly, " I should thank you." Goldsmith was not a man to 
harbor spleen or ill-will, and soon laughed at this unworthy 
rivalship : but the jealousy and envy awakened in Kelly's mind 
long continued. He is even accused of having given vent to his 
hostility by anonymous attacks in the newspapers, the basest 
resource of dastardly and malignant spirits ; but of this there is 
no positive proof 



212 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Burning the candle at both ends. — Fine apartments. — Fine furniture. — Fine 
clothes. — Fine acquaintances. — Shoemaker's holiday and jolly pigeon asso- 
ciates. — Peter Barlow, Glover, and the Hampstead hoax. — Poor friends 
among great acquaintances. 

The profits resulting from " The Good-natured Man" were beyond 
any that Goldsmith had yet derived from his works. He netted 
about four hundred pounds from the theatre, and one hundred 
pounds from his publisher. 

Five hundred pounds ! and all at one miraculous draught ! 
It appeared to him wealth inexhaustible. It at once opened his 
heart and hand, and led him into all kinds of extravagance. The 
first symptom was ten guineas sent to Shuter for a box ticket for 
his benefit, when " The Good-natured Man" was to be performed. 
The next was an entire change in his domicil. The shabby 
lodgings with Jeffs, the butler, in which he had been worried by 
Johnson's scrutiny, were now exchanged for chambers more be- 
coming a man of his ample fortune. The apartments consisted 
of three rooms on the second floor of No. 2 Brick Court, Middle 
Temple, on the right hand ascending the staircase, and over- 
looked the umbrageous walks of the Temple garden. The lease 
he purchased for £400, and then went on to furnish his rooms 
with mahogany sofas, card-tables, and book-cases ; with curtains, 



SHOEMAKER'S HOLIDAY. 213 



mirrors, and Wilton carpets. His awkward little person was also 
furnished out in a style befitting his apartment ; for, in addition 
to his suit of " Tyrian bloom, satin grain," we find another 
charged about this time, in the books of Mr. Filby, in no less 
gorgeous terms, being " lined with silk and furnished with gold 
buttons." Thus lodged and thus arrayed, he invited the visits 
of his most aristocratic acquaintances, and no longer quailed 
beneath the courtly eye of Beauclerc. He gave dinners to John 
son, Reynolds, Percy, Bickerstafi", and other friends of note; and 
supper parties to young folks of both sexes. These last were 
preceded by round games of cards, at which there was more 
laughter than skill, and in which the sport was to cheat each 
other ; or by romping games of forfeits and blind-man's bufi", at 
which he enacted the lord of misrule. Blackstone, whose cham- 
bers were immediately below, and who was studiously occupied 
on his Commentaries, used to complain of the racket made over- 
head by his revelling neighbor. 

Sometimes Goldsmith would make up a rural party, composed 
of four or five of his " jolly pigeon" friends, to enjoy what he 
humorously called a " shoemaker's holiday." These would as- 
semble at his chambers in the morning, to partake of a plentiful 
and rather expensive breakfast ; the remains of which, with his 
customary benevolence, he generally gave to some poor woman 
in attendance. The repast ended, the party would set out on 
foot, in high spirits, making extensive rambles by foot-paths and 
green lanes to Blackheath, "Wandsworth, Chelsea, Hampton Court, 
Highgate, or some other pleasant resort, within a few miles of 
London. A simple but gay and heartily relished dinner, at a 
country inn, crowned the excursion. In the evening they strolled 
back to town, all the better in health and spirits for a day spent 



S14 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



in rural and social enjoyment. Occasionally, when extravagantly 
inclined, thej adjourned from dinner to drink tea at the White 
Conduit House ; and, now and then, concluded their festive day 
by supping at the Grecian or Temple Exchange Coffee Houses, 
or at the Globe Tavern, in Fleet-street. The whole expenses of 
the day never exceeded a crown, and were oftener from three and 
sixpence to four shillings ; for the best part of their entertain- 
ment, sweet air and rural scenes, excellent exercise and joyous 
conversation, cost nothing. 

One of Goldsmith's humble companions, on these excursions, 
was his occasional amanuensis, Peter Barlow, whose quaint pecu- 
liarities afforded much amusement to the company. Peter was 
poor but punctilious, squaring his expenses according to his means. 
He always wore the same garb ; fixed his regular expenditure for 
dinner at a trifling sum, which, if left to himself, he never ex- 
ceeded, but which he always insisted on paying. His oddities 
always made him a welcome companion on the " shoemaker's 
holidays." The dinner, on these occasions, generally exceeded 
considerably his tariff; he put down, however, no more than his 
regular sum, and Goldsmith made up the difference. 

Another of these hangers-on, for whom, on such occasions, 
he was content to " pay the shot," was his countryman, Glover, 
of whom mention has already been made, as one of the wags and 
sponges of the Globe and Devil taverns, and a prime mimic at 
the Wednesday Club. 

This vagabond genius has bequeathed us a whimsical story 
of one of his practical jokes upon Goldsmith, in the course of a 
rural excursion in the vicinity of London. They had dined at 
an inn on Hampstead Heights, and were descending the hill, 
when, in passing a cottage, they saw through the open window a 



THE HAMPSTEAD HOAX. 216 



party at tea. Goldsmith, wlio was fatigued, cast a wistful glance 
at the cheerful tea-table. " How I should like to be of that party." 
exclaimed he. " Nothing more easy," replied Glover ; " allow 
me to introduce you." So saying, he entered the house with an 
air of the most perfect familiarity, though an utter stranger, and 
was followed by the unsuspecting Goldsmith, who supposed, of 
course, that he was a friend of the family. The owner of the 
house rose on the entrance of the strangers. The undaunted 
Glover shook hands with him in the most cordial manner pos- 
sible, fixed his eye on one of the company who had a peculiarly 
good-natured physiognomy, muttered something like a recognition, 
and forthwith launched into an amusing story, invented at the 
moment, of something which he pretended had occurred upon the 
road. The host supposed the new-comers were friends of his 
guests ; the guests that they were friends of the host. Glover did 
not give them time to find out the truth. He followed one droll 
story with another ; brought his powers of mimicry into play, and 
kept the company in a roar. Tea was offered and accepted ; an 
hour went ofi" in the most sociable manner imaginable, at the end 
of which Glover bowed himself and his companion out of the 
house with many facetious last words, leaving the host and his 
company to compare notes, and to find out what an impudent 
intrusion they had experienced. 

Nothing could exceed the dismay and vexation of Goldsmith 
when triumphantly told by Glover that it was all a hoax, and that 
he did not know a single soul in the house. His first impulse 
was to return instantly and vindicate himself from all participa- 
tion in the jest ; but a few words from his free and easy compa- 
nion dissuaded him. " Doctor," said he, coolly, " we are un- 
known ; you quite as much as I ; if you return and tell the story, 



216 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



it will be in tte newspapers to-morrow ; nay, upon recollection, I 
remember in one of their offices the face of that squinting fellow 
who sat in the corner as if he was treasuring up my stories for 
future use, and we shall be sure of being exposed ; let us there- 
fore keep our own counsel." 

This story was frequently afterward told by Glover, with rich 
dramatic effect, repeating and exaggerating the conversation, and 
mimicking, in ludicrous style, the embarrassment, surprise, and 
subsequent indignation of Groldsmith. 

It is a trite saying that a wheel cannot run in two ruts ; nor 
a man keep two opposite sets of intimates. Goldsmith some- 
times found his old friends of the 'jolly pigeon' order turn- 
ing up rather awkwardly when he was in company with his new 
aristocratic acquaintances. He gave a whimsical account of the 
sudden apparition of one of them at his gay apartments in the 
Temple, who may have been a welcome visitor at his squalid 
quarters in Green Arbor Court " How do you think he served 
me ?" said he to a friend. " Why, sir, after staying away 
two years, he came one evening into my chambers, half drunk, 
as I was taking a glass of wine with Topham Beauclerc and 
General Oglethorpe ; and sitting himself down, with most in- 
tolerable assurance inquired after my health and literary pur- 
suits, as if we were upon the most friendly footing. I was at 
first so much ashamed of ever having known such a fellow, that 
I stifled my resentment, and drew him into a conversation on 
such topics as I knew he could talk upon ; in which, to do him 
justice, he acquitted himself very reputably ; when all of a sud- 
den, as if recollecting something, he pulled tw'^o papers out of his 
pocket, which he presented to me with great ceremony, saying, 
' Here, my dear friend, is a quarter of a pound of tea, and a 



THE UJN WELCOME VISITOR. 217 



half pound of sugar, I have brought you ; for though it is not in 
my power at present to pay you the two guineas you so gener- 
ously lent me, you, nor any man else, shall ever have it to say 
that I want gratitude.' This," added Goldsmith, "was too 
much. I could no longer keep in my feelings, but desired him 
to turn out of my chambers directly ; which he very coolly did, 
taking up his tea and sugar ; and I never saw him afterwards." 



218 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

Reduced again to book-building. — Rural retreat at Shoemaker's paradise. — 
Death of Henry Goldsmith — tributes to his memory in the Deserted 
Village. 

The heedless expenses of Groldsmith, as may easily be supposed, 
soon brought him to the end of his ' prize money,' but when his 
purse gave out he drew upon futurity, obtaining advances from 
his booksellers and loans from his friends in the confident hope 
of soon turning up another trump. The debts which he thus 
thoughtlessly incurred in consequence of a transient gleam of 
prosperity embarrassed him for the rest of his life ; so that the 
success of the '■ Grood-naturcd Man " may be said to have been 
ruinous to him. 

He was soon obliged to resume his old craft of book-building, 
and set about his History of Rome, undertaken for Davies. 

It was his custom, as we have shown, during the summer 
time, when pressed by a multiplicity of literary jobs, or urged 
to the accotnplishmeut of some particular task, to take country 
lodgings a few miles from town, generally on the Harrow or 
Edgeware roads, and bury himself there for weeks and months 
together. Sometimes he would remain closely occupied in his 
room, at other times he would stroll out along the lanes and 
hedge-rows, and taking out paper and pencil, note down thoughts 



SHOEMAKER'S PARADISE. 219 



to be expanded and connected at home. His summer retreat 
for the present year, 1 768, was a little cottage with a garden, 
pleasantly situated about eight miles from town on the Edgcware 
road. He took it in conjunction with a Mr. Edmund Botts, a 
barrister and man of letters, his neighbor in the Temple, having 
rooms immediately opposite him on the same floor. They had 
become cordial intimates, and Botts was one of those with whom 
Goldsmith now and then took the friendly but pernicious liberty 
of borrowing. 

The cottage which they had hired belonged to a rich shoe- 
maker of Piccadilly, who had embellished his little domain of 
half an acre with statues, and jets, and all the decorations of 
landscape gardening ; in consequence of which Goldsmith gave 
it the name of The Shoemaker's Paradise. As his fellow occu- 
pant Mr. Botts drove a gig, he sometimes, in an interval of lite- 
rary labor accompanied him to town, partook of a social dinner 
there and returned with him in the evening. On one occasion, 
when they had probably lingered too long at the table, they came 
near breaking their necks on their way homeward by driving 
against a post on the side-walk, while Botts was proving by the 
force of legal eloquence that they were in the very middle of the 
broad Edgeware road. 

In the course of this summer, Goldsmith's career of gayety 
was suddenly brought to a pause by intelligence of the death of 
his brother Henry, then but forty-five years of age. He had led 
a quiet and blameless life amid the scenes of his youth, fulfil- 
ling the duties of village pastor with unaffected piety ; conduct- 
ing the school at Lissoy with a degree of industry and ability 
that gave it celebrity, and acquitting himself in all the duties of 
life with undeviating rectitude and the mildest benevolence. 



220 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



How truly Groldsmith loved and venerated him is evident in all 
his letters and throughout his works ; in which his brother con- 
tinually forms his model for an exemplification of all the most 
endearing of the Christian virtues ; yet his affection at his death 
was embittered by the fear that he died with some doubt upon 
his mind of the warmth of his aflfection. Groldsmith had been 
urged by his friends in Ireland, since his elevation in the world, 
to use his influence with the great, which they supposed to be all 
powerful, in favor of Henry, to obtain for him church preferment. 
He did exert himself as far as his diffident nature would permit, 
but without success ; we have seen that, in the case of the Earl 
of Northumberland, when, as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, that 
nobleman proff'ered him his patronage, he asked nothing for him- 
self, but only spoke on behalf of his brother. Still some of his 
friends, ignorant of what he had done and of how little he was 
able to do, accused him of negligence. It is not likely, however, 
that his amiable and estimable brother joined in the accusation. 

To the tender and melancholy recollections of his early days 
awakened by the death of this loved companion of his childhood, 
we may attribute some of the most heartfelt passages in his 
Deserted Village. Much of that poem we are told was composed 
this summer, in the course of solitary strolls about the green 
lanes and beautifully rural scenes of the neighborhood ; and 
thus much of the softness and sweetness of English landscape 
became blended with the ruder features of Lissoy. It was in 
these lonely and subdued moments, when tender regret was half 
mingled with self-upbraiding, that he poured forth that homage 
of the heart rendered as it were at the grave of his brother. 
The picture of the village pastor in this poem, which we have 
already hinted, was taken in part from the character of his 



HENRY GOLDSMITH. 321 



father, embodied likewise the recollections of his brother Henry ; 
for the natures of the father and son seem to have been identical. 
In the following lines, however, Goldsmith evidently contrasted 
the quiet settled life of his brother, passed at home in the benev- 
olent exercise of the Christian duties, with his own restless 
vagrant career : 

" Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 
Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place." 

To us the whole character seems traced as it were in an expia- 
tory spirit ; as if, conscious of his own wandering restlessness, 
he sought to humble himself at the shrine of excellence which 
he had not been able to practise : 

" At church with meek and unaffected grace. 
His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; 
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway. 
And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. 
The service past, around the pious man. 
With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
Even children foUow'd, with endearing wile. 
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile : 
His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd. 
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distress'd ; 
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given. 
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 

******* 
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies. 
He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, 
AlWd to brighter worlds, and led the way." 



222 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Dinner at Bickerstaff's. — Hifferiian and his impecuniosity. — Kenrick's epi- 
gram. — Johnson's consolation. — Goldsmith's toilet. — The bloom-colored 
coat. — New acquaintances, — The Hornecks. — A touch of poetry and pas- 
sion. — The Jessamy Bride. 

In October, Groldsmith returned to town and resumed his usual 
haunts. We hear of him at a dinner given by his countryman, 
Isaac Bickerstaff, author of " Love in a Village," " Lionel and 
Clarissa," and other successful dramatic pieces. The dinner was 
to be followed by the reading by Bickerstaff of a new play. 
Among the guests was one Paul Hiffernan, likewise an Irishman ; 
somewhat idle and intemperate ; who lived nobody knew how nor 
where, sponging wherever he had a chance, and often of course 
upon Goldsmith, who was ever the vagabond's friend, or rather 
victim. Hiffernan was something of a physician, and elevated 
the emptiness of his purse into the dignity of a disease, which he 
termed imjoecuniosity ^ and against which he claimed a right to 
call for relief from the healthier purses of his friends. He was a 
scribbler for the newspapers, and latterly a dramatic critic, which 
had probably gained him an invitation to the dinner and reading. 
The wine and wassail, however, befogged his senses. Scarce had 
the author got into the second act of his play, when Hiffernan 
began to nod, and at length snored outright. • i^ckerstaff was 



PAUL HIFFERNAN. 223 



embarrassed, but continued to read in a more elevated tone. 
The louder he read, the louder Hiffernan snored ; until the 
author came to a pause. " Never mind the brute, Bick, but go 
on," cried Goldsmith. " He would have served Homer just so, 
if he were here and reading his own works." 

Kenrick, Goldsmith's old enemy, travestied this anecdote in 
the following lines, pretending that the poet had compared his 
countryman Bickerstaff to Homer. 

What are your Bretons, Romans, Grecians, 
Compared with thorough-bred Milesians ! 
Step into Griffin's shop, he'll tell ye 
Of Goldsmith, Bickerstaff, and Kelly * * * 
And, take one Irish evidence for t'other, 
Ev'n Homer's self is but their foster brother. 

Johnson was a rough consoler to a man when wincing under 
an attack of this kind. " Never mind, sir," said he to Goldsmith, 
when he saw that he felt the sting. " A man whose business it 
is to be talked of is much helped by being attacked. Fame, sir, 
is a shuttlecock ; if it be struck only at one end of the room, it 
will soon fall to the ground ; to keep it up, it must be struck at 
both ends." 

Bickerstaff at the time of which we are speaking was in high 
vogue, the associate of the first wits of the day ; a few years 
afterwards, he was obliged to fly the country to escape the 
punishment of an- infamous crime. Johnson expressed great 
astonishment at hearing the offence for which he had fled. 
"Why, sir?" said Thrale ; "he had long been a suspected man." 
Perhaps there was a knowing look on the part of the eminent 
brewer, which provoked a somewhat contemptuous reply. " By 



224 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



those who look close to the ground," said Johnson, " dirt will 
sometimes be seen ; I hope I see things from a greater distance." 

We have already noticed the improvement, or rather the 
increased expense, of Goldsmith's wardrobe since his elevation 
into polite society. " He was fond," says one of his contem- 
poraries, " of exhibiting his muscular little person in the gayest 
apparel of the day, to which was added a bag-wig and sword." 
Thus arrayed, he used to figure about in the sunshine in the 
Temple Gardens, much to his own satisfaction, but to the 
amusement of his acquaintances. 

Boswell, in his memoirs, has rendered one of his suits for 
ever famous. That worthy, on the 16th of October in this same 
year, gave a dinner to Johnson, Goldsmith, Keynolds, Garrick, 
Murphy, Bickerstaff, and Davies. Goldsmith was generally apt 
to bustle in at the last moment, when the guests were taking 
their seats at table, but on this occasion he was unusually early. 
While waiting for some lingerers to arrive, " he strutted about," 
says Boswell, " bragging of his dress, and I believe, was seriously 
vain of it, for his mind was undoubtedly prone to such impres- 
sions. ' Come, come,' said Garrick, ' talk no more of that. You 
are perhaps the worst — eh, eh V Goldsmith was eagerly attempt- 
ing to interrupt him, when Garrick went on, laughing ironically. 
' Nay, you will always look like a gentleman ; but I am talking 
of your being well or ill dressed.^ ' Well, let me tell you,' said 
Goldsmith, ' when the tailor brought home my bloom-colored 
coat, he said, " Sir, I have a favor to beg of you ; when any body 
asks you who made your clothes, be pleased to mention John 
Filby, at the Harrow, in Water Lane." ' Why, sir,' cried John- 
Bon, ' that was because he knew the strange color would attract 



A JOKER OUTJOKED. 225 



crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of him, and see 
how well he could make a coat of so absurd a color.' " 

But though Groldsmith might permit this raillery on the part 
of his friends, he was quick to resent any personalities of the 
kind from strangers. As he was one day walking the Strand 
in grand array with bag-wig and sword, he excited the merriment 
of two coxcombs, one of whom called to the other to " look at 
that fly with a long pin stuck through it " Stung to the quick. 
Goldsmith's first retort was to caution the passers-by to be on 
their guard against " that brace of disguised pickpockets " — his 
next was to step into the middle of the street, where there was 
room for action, half-draw his sword, and beckon the joker, who 
was armed in like manner, to follow him. This was literally a 
war of wit which the other had not anticipated. He had no in- 
clination to push the joke to such an extreme, but abandoning 
the ground, sneaked off" with his brother wag amid the hootings 
of the spectators. 

This proneness to finery in dress, however, which Boswell 
and others of Goldsmith's contemporaries, who did not under- 
stand the secret plies of his character, attributed to vanity, arose, 
we are convinced, from a widely different motive. It was from a 
painful idea of his own personal defects, which had been cruelly 
stamped upon his mind in his boyhood, by the sneers and jeers 
of his playmates, and had been ground deeper into it by rude 
speeches made to him in every step of his struggling career, un- 
til it had become a constant cause of awkwardness and embar- 
rassment. This he had experienced the more sensibly since his 
reputation had elevated him into polite society ; and he was con- 
stantly endeavoring by the aid of dress to acquire that personal 
acceptability^ if we may use the phrase, which nature had denied 

10* 



226 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



tim. If ever he betrayed a little self-complacency on first turn- 
ing out in a new suit, it may, perhaps, have been because he felt 
as if he had achieved a triumph over his ugliness. 

There were circumstances too, about the time of which we 
are treating, which may have rendered G-oldsmith more than 
usually attentive to his personal appearance. He had recently 
made the acquaintance of a most agreeable family from Devon- 
shire, which he met at the house of his friend. Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds. It consisted of Mrs. Horneck, widow of Captain Kane 
Horneck ; two daughters, seventeen and nineteen years of age, 
and an only son, Charles, tlie Captain in Lace^ as his sisters 
playfully and somewhat proudly called him, he having lately en- 
tered the Gruards.. The daughters are described as uncommonly 
beautiful, intelligent, sprightly, and agreeable. Catharine, the 
eldest, went among her friends by the name of Little Comedy, 
indicative, very probably, of her disposition. She was engaged 
to William Henry Bunbury, second son of a Sufi"olk baronet. 
The hand and heart of her sister Mary were yet unengaged, 
although she bore the by-name among her friends of the Jessamy 
Bride. This family was prepared, by their intimacy with Rey- 
nolds and his sister, to appreciate the merits of Groldsmith. The 
poet had always been a chosen friend of the eminent painter, and 
Miss Reynolds, as we have shown, ever since she had heard his 
poem of The Traveller read aloud, had ceased to consider him 
ugly. The Horneeks were equally capable of forgetting his per- 
son in admiring his works, On becoming acquainted with him, 
too, they were delighted with his guileless simplicity ; his buoy- 
ant good-nature and his innate benevolence, and an enduring 
intimacy soon sprang up between them. For once poor G-old- 
smith had met with polite society, with which he was perfectly at 



A RHYMING EPISTLE. 227 



home, and by which he was fully appreciated ; for once he had 
met with lovely women, to whom his ugly features were not re- 
pulsive. A proof of the easy and playful terms in which he was 
with them, remains in a whimsical epistle in verse, of which the 
following was the occasion. A dinner was to be given to their 
family by a Dr. Baker, a friend of their mother's, at which Rey- 
nolds and Angelica Kauffman were to be present. The young 
ladies were eager to have Goldsmith of the party, and their inti- 
macy with Dr. Baker allowing them to take the liberty, they 
wrote a joint invitation to the poet at the last moment. It came 
too late, and drew from him the following reply ; on the top of 
which was scrawled. This is a poem ! This is a copy of verses ! 



Your mandate I got, 
You may all go to pot ; 
Had your senses been right. 
You'd have sent before night — 
So tell Horneck and Nesbitt, 
And Baker and his bit, 
And Kauffman beside. 
And the Jessamy Bride, 
With the rest of the crew. 
The Reynoldses too, 



Little Comedy's face. 
And the Captain in Lace— 
Tell each other to rue 
Your Devonshire crew. 
For sending so late 
To one of my state. 
But 'tis Reynolds's way 
From wisdom to stray. 
And Angelica's whim 
To befrolic like him ; 



But alas ! your good worships, how could they be wiser. 
When both have been spoil'd in to-day's Advertiser ?* 

* The following lines had appeared in that day's Advertiser, on the portrai 
of Sir Joshua by Angelica Kauffman : — 

While fair Angelica, with matchless grace, 
Paints Conway's burly form and Stanhope's fece ; 
Our hearts to beauty willing homage pay. 
We praise, admire, and gaze our souls away. 



228 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



It has been intimated that the intimacy of poor Goldsmith 
with the Miss Hornecks, which began in so sprightly a vein, gra- 
dually assumed something of a more tender nature, and that he 
was not insensible to the fascinations of the younger sister. This 
may account for some of the phenomena which about this time 
appeared in his wardrobe and toilet. During the first year of 
his acquaintance with these lovely girls, the tell-tale book of his 
tailor, Mr. William Filby, displays entries of four or five full suits, 
beside separate articles of dress. Among the items we find a 
green half-trimmed frock and breeches, lined with silk ; a queen's 
blue dress suit ; a half-dress suit of ratteen, lined with satin ; a 
pair of silk stocking breeches, and another pair of a bloom color. 
Alas ! poor Groldsmith ! how much of this silken finery was dic- 
tated, not by vanity, but humble consciousness of thy defects ; 
how much of it was to atone for the uncouthness of thy person, 
and to win favor in the eyes of the Jessamy Bride ! 

But when the likeness she hath done for thee, 
O Reynolds ! with astonishment we see. 
Forced to submit, with all our pride we own, 
Such strength, such harmony excelled by none. 
And thou art rivalled by thyself alone. 



IN THE TEMPLE. 229 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

Goldsmith in the Temple. — Judge Day and Grattan. — Labor and dissipation. — 
Publication of the Roman History. — Opinions of it. — History of Animated 
Nature. — Temple rookery. — Anecdotes of a spider. 

In the winter of 1768-69 Goldsmith occupied himself at his quar- 
ters in the Temple, slowly " Imilding up" his Koman Histoi-y. 
We have pleasant views of him in this learned and half-cloistered 
retreat of wits and lawyers and legal students, in the reminis- 
cences of Judge Day of the Irish Bench, who in his advanced 
age delighted to recall the days of his youth, when he was a 
templar, and to speak of the kindness with which he and his fel- 
low-student, Grattan, were treated by the poet. " I was just ar- 
rived from college," said he, " full freighted with academic glean- 
ings, and our author did not disdain to receive from me some 
opinions and hints towards his Greek and Roman histories. Be- 
ing then a young man, I felt much flattered by the notice of so 
celebrated a person. He took great delight in the conversation 
of Grattan, whose brilliancy in the morning of life furnished full 
earnest of the unrivalled splendor which awaited his meridian ; 
and finding us dwelling together in Essex Court, near himself, 
where he frequently visited my immortal friend, his warm heart 
became naturally prepossessed towards the associate of one whom 
he so much admired." 



230 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



The judge goes on, in his reminiscences, to give a picture of 
Goldsmith's social habits, similar in style to those already fur- 
nished. He frequented much the G-recian Coflfee-House, then the 
favorite resort of the Irish and Lancashire Templars. He de- 
lighted in collecting his friends around him at evening parties 
at his chambers, where he entertained them with a cordial and 
unostentatious hospitality. " Occasionally," adds the judge, " he 
amused them with his fliite, or with whist, neither of which he 
played well, particularly the latter, but, on losing his money, 
he never lost his temper. In a run of bad luck and worse 
play, he would fling his cards upon the floor and exclaim, 
' Bycfore G-eorge, I ought for ever to renounce thee, fickle, 
faithless fortune.' " 

The judge was aware, at the time, that all the learned labor 
of poor Goldsmith upon his Roman History was mere hack work 
to recruit his exhausted finances. " His purse replenished," adds 
he, " by labors of this kind, the season of relaxation and pleasure 
took its turn, in attending the theatres, Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and 
other scenes of gayety and amusement. Whenever his funds were 
dissipated — and they fled more rapidly from being the dupe of 
many artful persons, male and female, who practised upon his 
benevolence — he returned to his literary labors, and shut himself 
up from society to provide fresh matter for his bookseller, and 
fresh supplies for himself" 

How completely had the young student discerned the charac- 
teristics of poor, genial, generous, drudging, holiday-loving Gold- 
smith ; toiling, that he might play ; earning his bread by the 
sweat of his brains, and then throwing it out of the window. 

The Roman History was published in the middle of May, in 
two volumes of five hundred pages each. It was brought out 



ROMAN HISTORY. 231 



without parade or pretension, and was announced as for the use 
of schools and colleges ; but, though a work written for bread, 
not fame, such is its ease, perspicuity, good sense, and the delight- 
ful simplicity of its style, that it was well received by the critics, 
commanded a prompt and extensive sale, and has ever since re- 
mained in the hands of young and old. 

Johnson, who, as we have before remarked, rarely praised or 
dispraised things by halves, broke forth in a warm eulogy of the 
author and the work, in a conversation with Boswell, to the great 
astonishment of the latter. " "Whether we take Goldsmith," said 
he, " as a poet, as a comic writer, or as an historian, he stands in 
the first class." Boswell. — " An historian ! My dear sir, you 
surely will not rank his compilation of the Roman History with 
the works of other historians of this age." Johnson. — " Why, who 
are before him ?" Boswell. — " Hume — Robertson — Lord Lyttel- 
ton." Johnson (his antipathy against the Scotch beginning to 
rise). — " I have not read Hume ; but doubtless Goldsmith's His- 
tory is better than the verbiage of Robertson, or the foppery of 
Dalrymple." Boswell. — " Will you not admit the superiority of 
Robertson, in whose history we find such penetration, such paint- 
ing?" Johnson. — " Sir, you must consider how that penetration 
and that painting are employed. It is not history, it is imagina- 
tion. He who describes what he never saw, draws from fancy. 
Robertson paints minds as Sir Joshua paints faces, in a history- 
piece ; he imagines an heroic countenance. You must look upon 
Robertson's work as romance, and try it by that standard. His- 
tory it is not. Besides, sir, it is the great excellence of a writer 
to put into his book as much as his book will hold. Goldsmith 
has done this in his history. Now Robertson might have put 
twice as much in his book. Robertson is like a man who has 



232 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



packed gold in wool ; the wool takes up more room than the gold. 
No, sir, I always thought Robertson would be crushed with his 
own weight — would be buried under his own ornaments. Gold- 
smith tells you shortly all you want to know ; Robertson detains 
you a great deal too long. No man will read Robertson's cum- 
brous detail a second time ; but Goldsmith's plain narrative will 
please again and again. I would say to Robertson what an old 
tutor of a college said to one of his pupils, ' Read over your com- 
positions, and, whenever you meet with a passage which you think 
is particularly fine, strike it out !' Groldsmith's abridgment is 
better than that of Lucius Florus or Eutropius ; and I will 
venture to say, that if you compare him with Vertot in the 
same places of the Roman History, you will find that he excels 
Vertot. Sir, he has the art of compiling, and of saying every 
thing he has to say in a pleasing manner. He is now writing a 
Natural History, and will make it as entertaining as a Persian 
tale." 

The Natural History to which Johnson alluded was the 
" History of Animated Nature," which Groldsmith commenced 
in 1769, under an engagement with Griffin, the bookseller, to 
complete it as soon as possible in eight volumes, each containing 
upwards of four hundred pages, in pica ; a hundred guineas to 
be paid to the author on the delivery of each volume in manu- 
script. 

He was induced to engage in this work by the urgent solici- 
tations of the booksellers, who had been struck by the sterling 
merits and captivating style of an introduction vi^hich he wrote 
to Brookes's Natural History. It was Goldsmith intention 
originally to make a translation of Pliny, with a popular com- 
mentary ; but the appearance of Buffon's work induced him to 



HISTORY OF ANIMATED NATURE. 233 



change his plan, and make use of that author for a guide and 
model. 

Cumberland, speaking of this work, observes : " Distress 
drove Goldsmith upon undertakings neither congenial with his 
studies nor worthy of his talents. I remember him when, in his 
chambers in the Temple, he showed me the beginning of his 
' Animated Nature ;' it was with a sigh, such as genius draws 
when hard necessity diverts it from its bent to drudge for bread, 
and talk of birds, and beasts, and creeping things, which Pidock's 
showman would have done as well. Poor fellow, he hardly 
knows an ass from a mule, nor a turkey from a goose, but when 
he sees it on the table." 

Others of Goldsmith's friends entertained similar ideas with 
respect to his fitness for the task, and they were apt now and then 
to banter him on the subject, and to amuse themselves with his 
easy credulity. The custom among the natives of Otaheite of 
eating dogs being once mentioned in company. Goldsmith observed 
that a similar custom prevailed in China ; that a dog-butcher is 
as common there as any other butcher ; and that, when he walks 
abroad, all the dogs fall on him. Johnson. — " That is not owing 
to his killing dogs ; sir, I remember a butcher at Litchfield, 
whom a dog that was in the house where I lived always attacked. 
It is the smell of carnage which provokes this, let the animals he 
has killed be what they may." Goldsmith. — " Yes, there is a 
general abhorrence in animals at the signs of massacre. If you 
put a tub full of blood into a stable, the horses are likely to go 
mad." Johnson. — " I doubt that." Goldsmith. — " Nay, sir, it 
is a fact well authenticated." Thrale. — '• You had better prove 
it before you put it into your book on Natural History. You 
may do it in my stable if you will." Johnson. — •" Nay, sir, I 



234 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



would not have him prove it. If he is content to take his infor- 
mation from others, he may get through his book with little trou- 
ble, and without much endangering his reputation. But if he 
makes experiments for so comprehensive a book as his, there 
would be no end to them ; his erroneous assertions would fall 
then upon himself; and he might be blamed for not having made 
experiments as to every particular." 

Johnson's original prediction, however, with respect to this 
work, that Groldsmith would make it as entertaining as a Persian 
tale, was verified ; and though much of it was borrowed from 
Bufi'on, and but little of it written from his own observation ; 
though it was by no means profound, and was chargeable with 
many errors, yet the charms of his style and the play of his 
happy disposition throughout have continued to render it far 
more popular and readable than many works on the subject of 
much greater scope and science. Cumberland was mistaken, 
however, in his notion of Goldsmith's ignorance and lack of ob- 
servation as to the characteristics of animals. On the contrary, 
he was a minute and shrewd observer of them ; but he observed 
them with the eye of a poet and moralist as well as a naturalist. 
We quote two passages from his works illustrative of this fact, 
and we do so the more readily because they are in a manner a 
part of his history, and give us another peep into his private life 
in the Temple ; of his mode of occupying himself in his lonely 
and apparently idle moments, and of another class of acquaint- 
ances which he made there. 

Speaking in his "Animated Nature" of the habitudes of 
Rooks, " I have often amused myself," says he, " with observing 
their plans of policy from my window in the Temple, that looks 
upon a grove, where they have made a colony in the midst of a 



ANECDOTES OF A SPIDER. 235 



city. At the commencement of spring the rookery, which, during 
the continuance of winter, seemed to have been deserted, or only 
guarded by about five or six, like old soldiers in a garrison, now 
begins to be once more frequented ; and in a short time, all the 
bustle and hurry of business will be fairly commenced." 

The other passage which we take the liberty to quote at some 
length, is from an admirable paper in the Bee, and relates to the 
House Spider. 

" Of all the solitary insects I have ever remarked, the spider 
is the most sagacious, and its motions to me, who have attentively 
considered them, seem almost to exceed belief * * * 
I perceived, about four years ago, a large spider in one corner of 
my room making its web; and, though the maid frequently 
levelled her broom against the labors of the little animal, I 
had the good fortune then to prevent its destruction, and I may 
say it more than paid me by the entertainment it afforded. 

" In three days the web was, with incredible diligence, com- 
pleted ; nor could I avoid thinking that the insect seemed to 
exult in its new abode. It frequently traversed it round, exa- 
mined the strength of every part of it, retired into its hole, and 
came out very frequently. The first enemy, however, it had to 
encounter was another and a much larger spider, which, having 
no web of its own, and having probably exhausted all its stock in 
former labors of this kind, came to invade the property of its 
neighbor. Soon, then, a terrible encounter ensued, in which the 
invader seemed to have the victory, and the laborious spider was 
obliged to take refuge in its hole. Upon this I perceived the 
victor using every art to draw the enemy from its stronghold. 
He seemed to go off, but quickly returned ; and when he found 
all arts in vain, began to demolish the new web without mercy. 



236 OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 



This brought on another battle, and, contrary to my expectations, 
the laborious spider became conquerer, and fairly killed his antago- 
nist. 

" Now, then, in peaceable possession of what was justly its 
own, it waited three days with the utmost impatience, repairing 
the breaches of its web, and taking no sustenance that I could 
perceive. At last, however, a large blue fly fell into the snare, 
and struggled hard to get loose. The spider gave it leave to en- 
tangle itself as much as possible, but it seemed to be too strong 
for the cobweb. I must own I was greatly surprised when I saw 
the spider immediately sally out, and in less than a minute 
weave a new net round its captive, by which the motion of its 
wings was stopped ; and, when it was fairly hampered in this 
manner, it was seized and dragged into the hole. 

" In this manner it lived, in a precarious state ; and nature 
seemed to have fitted it for such a life, for upon a single fly it 
subsisted for more than a week. I once put a wasp into the net ; 
but when the spider came out in order to seize it as usual, upon 
perceiving what kind of an enemy it had to deal with, it instantly 
broke all the bands that held it fast, and contributed all that lay 
in its power to disengage so formidable an antagonist. When 
the wasp was set at liberty, I expected the spider would have set 
about repairing the breaches that were made in its net; but 
those, it seems, were irreparable : wherefore the cobweb was now 
entirely forsaken, and a new one begun, which was completed in 
the usual time. 

" I had now a mind to try how many cobwebs a single spider 
could furnish ; wherefore I destroyed this, and the insect set 
about another. When I destroyed the other also, its whole stock 
seemed entirely exhausted, and it could spin no more. The arts 



ANECDOTES OF A SPIDER. 237 



it made use of to support itself, now deprived of its great means 
of subsistence, were indeed surprising. I have seen it roll up its 
legs like a ball, and lie motionless for hours together, but cau- 
tiously watching all the time : when a fly happened to approach 
sufficiently near, it would dart out all at once, and often seize its 
prey. 

" Of this life, however, it soon began to grow weary, and re- 
solved to invade the possession of some other spider, since it 
could not make a web of its own. It formed an attack upon a 
neighboring fortification with great vigor, and at first was as 
vigorously repulsed. Not daunted, however, with one defeat, in 
this manner it continued to lay siege to another's web for three 
days, and at length, having killed the defendant, actually took 
possession. When smaller flies happen to fall into the snare, the 
spider does not sally out at once, but very patiently waits till it 
is sure of them ; for, upon his immediately approaching, the ter- 
ror of his appearance might give the captive strength sufficient 
to get loose ; the manner, then, is to wait patiently, till, by inef- 
fectual and impotent struggles, the captive has wasted all its 
strength, and then he becomes a certain and easy conquest. 

" The insect I am now describing lived three years ; every 
year it changed its skin and got a new set of legs. I have some- 
times plucked off a leg, which grew again in two or three days. 
At first it dreaded my approach to its web, but at last it became 
so familiar as to take a fly out of my hand ; and, upon my touch- 
ing any part of the web, would immediately leave its hole, pre- 
pared either for a defence or an attack." 



238 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XXYII. 

Honors at the Royal Academy. — Letter to his brother Maurice. — Family for 
tunes. — Jane Contarine and the miniature. — Portraits and engravings. — 
School associations. — Johnson and Goldsmith in Westminster Abbey. 

The latter part of the year 1768 had been made memorable in 
the world of taste by the institution of the Royal Academy of 
Arts, under the patronage of the King, and the direction of 
forty of the most distinguished artists. Reynolds, who had been 
mainly instrumental in founding it, had been unanimously elected 
president, and had thereupon received the honor of knighthood.* 
Johnson was so delighted with his friend's elevation, that he 
broke through a rule of total abstinence with respect to wine, 
which he had maintained for several years, and drank bumpers 
on the occasion. Sir Joshua eagerly sought to associate his old 
and valued friends with him in his new honors, and it is sup- 
posed to be through his suggestions that, on the first establish- 
ment of professorships, which took place in December, 1769, 
Johnson was nominated to that of Ancient Literature, and Gold- 

* We must apologize for the anaclaronism we have permitted ourselves in 
the course of this memoir, in speaking of Reynolds as Sir Joshua, when treat- 
ing of circumstances which occurred prior to his being dubbed ; but it is so 
customary to speak of him by that title, that we found it difficult to dispense 
with it. 



\ 



LETTER TO HIS BROTHER MAURICE. 239 



smitli to that of History. They were mere honorary titles, with- 
out emolument, but gave distinction, from the noble institution 
to which they appertained. They also gave the possessors hon- 
orable places at the annual banquet, at which were assembled 
many of the most distinguished persons of rank and talent, all 
proud to be classed among the patrons of the arts. 

The following letter of Goldsmith to his brother alludes to 
the foregoing appointment, and to a small legacy bequeathed to 
him by his uncle Contarine. 

" To Mr. Maurice Goldsmith, at James Lazvder^s, Esq., at Kil- 
more^ near Carrick-on-Shannon. 

" January, 1770. 

" Dear Brother, — I should have answered your letter soon- 
er, but, in truth, I am not fond of thinking of the necessities of 
those I love, when it is so very little in my power to help them. 
I am sorry to find you are every way unprovided for ; and what 
adds to my uneasiness is, that I have received a letter from 
my sister Johnson, by which I learn that she is pretty much 
in the same circumstances. As to myself, I believe I think 
I could get both you and my poor brother-in-law something like 
that which you desire, but I am determined never to ask for 
little things, nor exhaust any little interest I may have, until 
I can serve you, him, and myself more effectually. As yet, no 
opportunity has offered ; but I believe you are pretty well con- 
vinced that I will not be remiss when it arrives. 

" The king has lately been pleased to make me professor of 
Ancient History in the royal academy of painting which he has 
just established, but there is no salary annexed ; and I took it 
rather as a compliment to the institution than any benefit to 



240 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



myself. Honors to one in my situation are something like 
rufl&es to one that wants a shirt. 

" You tell me that there are fourteen or fifteen pounds 
left me in the hands of my cousin Lawder, and you ask 
me what I would have done with them. My dear brother, I 
would by no means give any directions to my dear worthy rela- 
tions at Kilmore how to dispose of money which is, properly 
speaking, more theirs than mine. All that I can say is, that I 
entirely, and this letter will serve to witness, give up any right 
and title to it ; and I am sure they will dispose of it to the best 
advantage. To them I entirely leave it ; whether they or you 
may think the whole necessary to fit you out, or whether our 
poor sister Johnson may not want the half, I leave entirely to 
their and your discretion. The kindness of that good couple 
to our shattered family demands our sincerest gratitude ; and, 
though they have almost forgotten me, yet, if good things at last 
arrive, I hope one day to return and increase their good-humor 
by adding to my own. 

" I have sent my cousin Jenny a miniature picture of myself, 
as I believe it is the most acceptable present I can offer. I have 
ordered it to be left for her at G-eorge Faulkner's, folded in a 
letter. The face, you well know is ugly enough, but it is finely 
painted. I will shortly also send my friends over the Shannon 
some mezzotinto prints of myself, and some more of my friends 
here, such as Burke, Johnson, Reynolds, and Colman. I 
believe I have written a hundred letters to different friends in 
your country, and never received an answer to any of them. I 
do not know how to account for this, or why they are unwilling 
to keep up for me those regards which I must ever retain for 
them. 



A SHATTERED FAMILY. 241 



" If, then, you have a mind to oblige me, you will write often, 
whether I answer you or not. Let me particularly have the 
news of our family and old acquaintances. For instance, you 
may begin by telling me about the family where you reside, how 
they spend their time, and whether they ever make mention of 
me. Tell me about my mother, my brother Hodson and his 
son, my brother Harry's son and daughter, my sister Johnson, 
the family of Ballyoughter, what is become of them, where they 
live, and how they do. You talked of being my only brother : I 
don't understand you. Where is Charles ? A sheet of paper 
occasionally filled with the news of this kind would make me 
very happy, and would keep you nearer my mind. As it is, my 
dear brother, believe me to be 

" Yours, most affectionately, 

" Oliver Goldsmith." 

By this letter we find the Goldsmiths the same shifting, 
shiftless race as formerly ; a " shattered family," scrambling on 
each other's back as soon as any rise above the surface. Mau- 
rice is " every way unprovided for :" living upon cousin Jane and 
her husband ; and, perhaps, amusing himself by hunting otter in 
the river Inny. Sister Johnson and her husband are as poorly 
ofi" as Maurice, with, perhaps, no one at hand to quarter them- 
selves upon ; as to the rest, " what is become of them ; where do 
they live ; how do they do ; what is become of Charles ?" What 
forlorn, hap-hazard life is implied by these questions ! Can we 
wonder that, with all the love for his native place, which is shown 
throughout Goldsmith's writings, he had not the heart to return 
there ? Yet his affections are still there. He wishes to know 

11 



242 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



wlietlier the Lawders (whicli means his cousin Jane, his early 
Valentine) ever make mention of him ; he sends Jane his minia- 
ture ; he believes " it is the most acceptable present he can offer ;" 
he evidently, therefore, does not believe she has almost forgot- 
ten him, although he intimates that he does : in his memory she 
is still Jane Contarine, as he last saw her, when he accompanied 
her harpsichord with his flute. Absence, like death, sets a seal 
on the image of those we have loved ; we cannot realize the inter- 
vening changes which time may have effected. 

As to the rest of Goldsmith's relatives, he abandons his legacy 
of fifteen pounds, to be shared among them. It is all he has to 
give. His heedless improvidence is eating up the pay of the 
booksellers in advance. "With all his literary success, he has 
neither money nor influence; but he has empty fame, and he 
is ready to participate with them ; he is honorary professor, with- 
out pay ; his portrait is to be engraved in mezzotint, in company 
with those of his friends, Burke, Reynolds, Johnson, Colman, 
and others, and he will send prints of them to his friends over 
the Channel, though they may not have a house to hang them 
up in. What a motley letter ! How indicative of the motley 
character of the writer ! By the by, the publication of a splen- 
did mezzotinto engraving of his likeness by Reynolds, was a great 
matter of glorification to Goldsmith, especially as it appeared in 
such illustrious company. As he was one day walking the streets 
in a state of high elation, from having just seen it figuring in the 
print-shop windows, he met a young gentleman with a newly 
married wife hanging on his arm, whom he immediately recog- 
nized for Master Bishop, one of the boys he had petted and 
treated with sweetmeats when a humble usher at Milner's school. 



PORTRAITS.— JOHNSON AT THE ABBEY. 243 



The kindly feelings of old times revived, and he accosted him 
with cordial familiarity, though the youth may have found some 
difficulty in recognizing in the personage, arrayed, perhaps, in 
garments of Tyrian dye, the dingy pedagogue of the Milners. 
" Come, my boy," cried Groldsmith, as if still speaking to a school- 
boy, " Come, Sam, I am delighted to see you. I must treat you 
to something — what shall it be ? Will you have some apple? 
glancing at an old woman's stall ; then, recollecting the print 
shop window : " Sam," said he, " have you seen my picture by Sir 
Joshua Reynolds ? Have you seen it, Sam ? Have you got an 
engraving ?" Bishop was caught ; he equivocated ; he had not 
yet bought it ; but he was furnishing his house, and had fixed 
upon the place where it was to be hung. " Ah, Sam !" re- 
joined Groldsmith reproachfully, " if your picture had been pub- 
lished, I should not have waited an hour without having it." 

After all, it was honest pride, not vanity, in Goldsmith, that 
was gratified at seeing his portrait deemed worthy of being per- 
petuated by the classic pencil of Reynolds, and " hung up in 
history" beside that of his revered friend, Johnson, E-ven the 
great moralist himself was not insensible to a feeling of this kind. 
Walking one day with Goldsmith, in Westminster Abbey, among 
the tombs of monarchs, warriors, and statesmen, they came to the 
sculptured mementos of literary worthies in poets' corner. Cast- 
ing his eye round upon these memorials of genius, Johnson mut- 
tered in a low tone to his companion, 

Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis. 
Goldsmith treasured up the intimated hope, and shortly after- 



244 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



wards, as they were passing by Temple-bar, wbere the heads of 
Jacobite rebels, executed for treason, were mouldering aloft on 
spikes, pointed up to the grizzly mementos, and echoed the inti- 
mation, 

Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis. 



THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 245 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Publication of the Deserted Village — notices and illustrations of it. 

Several years had now elapsed since the publication of The 
Traveller, and much wonder was expressed that the great success 
of that poem had not excited the author to further poetic at- 
tempts. On being questioned at the annual dinner of the Royal 
Academy by the Earl of Lisburn, why he neglected the muses to 
compile histories and write novels, " My Lord," replied he, " by 
courting the muses I shall starve, but by my other labors I eat, 
drink, have good clothes, and can enjoy the luxuries of life." 
So, also, on being asked by a poor writer what was the most 
profitable mode of exercising the pen, " My dear fellow," replied 
he, good-humoredly, " pay no regard to the draggle-tailed muses ; 
for my part I have found productions in prose much more sought 
after and better paid for." 

Still, however, as we have heretofore shown, he found sweet 
moments of dalliance to steal away from his prosaic toils, and 
court the muse among the green lanes and hedge-rows in the 
rural environs of London, and on the 26th of May, 1770, he was 
enabled to bring his Deserted Village before the public. 

The popularity of The Traveller had prepared the way for 
this poem, and its sale was instantaneous and immense. The 



246 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



first edition was immediately exhausted ; in a few days a second 
was issued ; in a few days more a third, and by the 16th of 
August the fifth edition was hurried through the press. As is 
the case with popular writers, he had become his own rival, and 
critics were inclined to give the preference to his first poem ; but 
with the public at large we believe the Deserted Village has ever 
been the greatest favorite. Previous to its publication the book- 
seller gave him in advance a note for the price agreed upon, one 
hundred guineas. As the latter was returning home he met a 
friend to whom he mentioned the circumstance, and who appa- 
rently judging of poetry by quantity rather than quality, observed 
that it was a great sum for so small a poem. " In truth," said 
Goldsmith, " I think so too ; it is much more than the honest 
man can afibrd or the piece is worth. I have not been easy since 
I received it." In fact, he actually returned the note to the book- 
seller, and left it to him to graduate the payment according to the 
success of the work. The bookseller, as may well be supposed, 
soon repaid him in full with many acknowledgments of his dis- 
interestedness. This anecdote has been called in question, we 
know not on what grounds ; we see nothing in it incompatible 
with the character of Goldsmith, who was very impulsive, and 
prone to acts of inconsiderate generosity. 

As we do not pretend in this summary memoir to go into a 
criticism or analysis of any of Goldsmith's writings, we shall not 
dwell upon the peculiar merits of this poem ; we cannot help 
noticing, however, how truly it is a mirror of the author's heart 
and of all the fond pictures of early friends and early life for 
ever present there. It seems to us as if the very last accounts 
received from home, of his " shattered family." and the desola- 
tion that seemed to have settled upon the haunts of his child 



THOUGHTS OF HOME. 247 



hood, had cut to the roots one feebly cherished hope, and pro- 
duced the following exquisitely tender and mournful lines : 

" In all my wand'rings round this world of care. 
In all my griefs — and God has giv'n my share — 
I still had hopes my latest hours to crown. 
Amid these humble bowers to lay me down ; 
To husband out life's taper at the close. 
And keep the flame from wasting by repose ; 
I still had hopes, for pride attends us still. 
Amid the swains to show my book-learn'd skill. 
Around my fire an ev'ning group to draw. 
And tell of all I felt and all 1 saw ; 
And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue. 
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew ; 
I still had hopes, my long vexations past. 
Here to return — and die at home at last," 

How touchingly expressive are the succeeding lines, wrung 
from a heart which all the trials and temptations and buffetings 
of the world could not render worldly ; which, amid a thousand 
follies and errors of the head, still retained its childlike inno- 
cence ; and which, doomed to struggle on to the last amidst the 
din and turmoil of the metropolis, had ever been cheating itself 
with a dream of rural quiet and seclusion : 

Oh bless'd retirement ! fi^end to life's decline. 
Retreats from care, that never must be mine. 
How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, 
A youth of labor with an age of ease ; 
Who quits a world where strong temptations try. 
And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly ! 



248 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



For him no wretches, born to work and weep, 
Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep : 
Nor surly porter stands, in guilty state, 
■ To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; 
But on he moves to meet his latter end. 
Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; 
Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay. 
While resignation gently slopes the way ; 
And all his prospects brightening to the last. 
His heaven commences ere the world be past. 



NOTE. 



The following article, which appeared in a London periodical, 
shows the effect of Groldsmith's poem in renovating the fortunes 
of Lissoy. 

" About three miles from Ballymahon, a very central town in 
the sister kingdom, is the mansion and village of Auburn, so 
called by their present possessor, Captain Hogan. Through the 
taste and improvement of this gentleman, it is now a beautiful 
spot, although fifteen years since it presented a very bare and 
unpoetical aspect. This, however, was owing to a cause which 
serves strongly to corroborate the assertion, that Goldsmith had 
this scene in view when he wrote his poem of ' The Deserted 
Village.' The then possessor, Greneral Napier, turned all his 
tenants out of their farms that he might inclose them in his 
own private domain. Littleton, the mansion of the general 
stands not far off, a complete emblem of the desolating spirit 
lamented by the poet, dilapidated and converted into a 
barrack. 



LISSOY. 249 

" The chief object of attraction is Lissoy, once the parsonage 
house of Henry Goldsmith, that brother to whom the poet 
dedicated his ' Traveller,' and who is represented as the village 
pastor, 

' Passing rich with forty pounds a year.' 

" When I was in the country, the lower chambers were in- 
habited by pigs and sheep, and the drawing-rooms by oats. 
Captain Hogan, however, has, I believe, got it since into his 
possession, and has, of course, improved its condition. 

" Though at first strongly inclined to dispute the identity of 
Auburn, Lissoy House overcame my scruples. As I clambered 
over the rotten gate, and crossed the grass-grown lawn or court, 
the tide of association became too strong for casuistry : here the 
poet dwelt and wrote, and here his thoughts fondly recurred 
when composing his 'Traveller' in a foreign land. Yonder was 
the decent church, that literally ' topped the neighboring hill.' 
Before me lay the little hill of Knockrue, on which he declares, 
in one of his letters, he had rather sit with a book in hand than 
mingle in the proudest assemblies. And, above all, startlingly 
true, beneath my feet was 

' Yonder copse, where once the garden smiled. 
And still where many a garden-flower grows wild.' 

" A painting from the life could not be more exact. ' The 
stubborn currant-bush' lifts its head above the rank grass, and 
the proud hollyhock flaunts where its sisters of the flower-knot 
are no more. 

" In the middle of the village stands the old ' hawthorn-tree,' 
11* 



250 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



built up with masonry to distinguish and preserve it ; it is old 
and stunted, and suffers much from the depredations of post- 
chaise travellers, who generally stop to procure a twig. Oppo- 
site to it is the village alehouse, over the door of which swings 
'The Three Jolly Pigeons.' Within every thing is arranged 
according to the letter : 

' The whitewash'd wall, the nicely-sanded floor. 
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door: 
The chest, contrived a double debt to pay, 
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; 
The pictures placed for ornament and use. 
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.' 

" Captain Hogan, I have heard, found great difficulty in ob- 
taining ' the twelve good rules,' but at length purchased them at 
some London bookstall to adorn the whitewashed parlor of ' The 
Three Jolly Pigeons.' However laudable this may be, nothing 
shook my faith in the reality of Auburn so much as this exact- 
ness, which had the disagreeable air of being got up for the 
occasion. The last object of pilgrimage is the quondam habita- 
tion of the schoolmaster, 

' There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule.* 
It is surrounded with fragrant proofs of identity in 
' The blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay.' 

There is to be seen the chair of the poet, which fell into the 
hands of its present possessors at the wreck of the parsonage- 
house ; they have frequently refused large offers of purchase ; 



THE POET'S CHAIR. 251 



but more, I dare say, for the sake of drawing contributions from 
the curious than from any reverence for the bard. The chair 
is of oak, with back and seat of cane, which precluded all hopes 
of a secret drawer, like that lately discovered in Gay's. There 
is no fear of its being worn out by the devout earnestness of sit- 
ters — as the cocks and hens have usurped undisputed possession 
of it, and protest most clamorously against all attempts to get 
it cleansed or to seat one's self, 

" The controversy concerning the identity of this Auburn 
was formerly a standing theme of discussion among the learned 
of the neighborhood ; but, since the pros and cons have been all 
ascertained, the argument has died away. Its abettors plead 
the singular agreement between the local history of the place 
and the Auburn of the poem, and the exactness with which the 
scenery of the one answers to the description of the other. To 
this is opposed the mention of the nightingale, 

* And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made ;' 

there being no such bird in the island. The objection is 
slighted, on the other hand, by considering the passage as a 
mere poetical license. ' Besides,' say they, ' the robin is the 
Irish nightingale.' And if it be hinted how unlikely it was that 
Goldsmith should have laid the scene in a place from which he 
was and had been so long absent, the rejoinder is always, ' Pray, 
sir, was Milton in hell when he built Pandemonium V 

" The line is naturally drawn between ; there can be no 
doubt that the poet intended England by 

' The land to hast'ning ills a prey, 
Where wealth accumulates and men decay.' 



252 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



But it is very natural to suppose that, at the same time, his 
imagination had in view the scenes of his youth, which give 
such strong features of resemblance to the picture." 



Best, an Irish clergyman, told Davis, the traveller in Ame- 
rica, that the hawthorn-bush mentioned in the poem was still 
remarkably large. " I was riding once," said he, " with Brady, 
titular Bishop of Ardagh, when he observed to me, ' Ma foy 
Best, this huge overgrown bush is mightily in the way. I will 
order it to be cut down.' — ' What, sir !' replied I, ' cut down the 
bush that supplies so beautiful an image in " The Deserted Vil- 
lage ?" ' — ' Ma foy !' exclaimed the bishop, ' is that the hawthorn- 
bush ? Then let it be sacred from the edge of the axe, and evil 
be to him that should cut off a branch.' " — The hawthorn-bush, 
however, has long since been cut up, root and branch, in furnish- 
ing relics to literary pilgrims. 



THE POET AMONG THE LADIES. 253 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Poet among the ladies — description of his person and manners. — Expedi- 
tion to Paris with the Horneck family. — The traveller of twenty and the 
traveller of forty. — Hickey, the special attorney. — An unlucky exploit. 

The Deserted Village had shed an additional poetic grace round 
the homely person of the author ; he was becoming more and 
more acceptable in ladies' eyes, and finding himself more and 
more at ease in their society ; at least in the society of those 
whom he met in the Reynolds circle, among whom he particu- 
larly afiected the beautiful family of the Hornecks. 

But let us see what were really the looks and manners of 
Goldsmith about this time, and what right he had to aspire to 
ladies' smiles ; and in so doing let us not take the sketches of Bos- 
well and his compeers, who had a propensity to represent him in 
caricature ; but let us take the apparently truthful and discrimi- 
nating picture of him as he appeared to Judge Day, when the 
latter was a student in the Temple. 

" In person," says the judge, " he was short ; about five feet 
five or six inches ; strong, but not heavy in make ; rather fair in 
complexion, with brown hair ; such, at least, as could be distin- 
guished from his wig. His features were plain, but not repul- 
sive, — certainly not so when lighted up by conversation. His 
manners were simple, natural, and perhaps on the whole, we may 



254 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



say, not polished; at least without the refinement and good- 
breeding which the exquisite polish of his compositions would 
lead us to expect. He was always cheerful and animated, often, 
indeed, boisterous in his mirth ; entered with spirit into convi- 
vial society ; contributed largely to its enjoyments by solidity of 
information, and the naivete and originality of his character ; 
talked often without premeditation, and laughed loudly without 
restraint." 

This, it will be recollected, represents him as he appeared to 
a young Templar, who probably saw him only in Temple coffee- 
houses, at students' quarters, or at the jovial supper parties given ^'^Jl 
at the poet's own chambers ; here, of course, his mind was in its 
rough dress ; his laugh may have been loud and his mirth bois- 
terous ; but we trust all these matters became softened and 
modified when he found himself in polite drawing-rooms and in 
female society. 

But what say the ladies themselves of him ; and here, fortu- 
nately, we have another sketch of him, as he appeared at the 
time to one of the Horneck circle ; in fact, we believe, to the 
Jessamy Bride herself After admitting, apparently, with some 
reluctance, that " he was a very plain man," she goes on to say, 
" but had he been much more so, it was impossible not to love 
and respect his goodness of heart, which broke out on every occa- 
sion. His benevolence was unquestionable, and his countenance 
hore every trace of it : no one that knew him intimately could 
avoid admiring and loving his good qualities." When to all this 
we add the idea of intellectual delicacy and refinement associated 
with him by his poetry and the newly-plucked bays that were 
flourishing round his brow, we cannot be surprised that fine and 
fashionable ladies should be proud of his attentions, and that 



HINTS AND SURMISES. 255 



even a young beauty should not be altogether displeased with 
the thoughts of having a man of his genius in her chains. 

We are led to indulge some notions of the kind from finding 
him in the month of July, but a few weeks after the publication 
of the Deserted Village, setting off on a six weeks' excursion to 
Paris, in company with Mrs. Horneck and her two beautiful 
daughters. A day or two before his departure, we find another 
new gala suit charged to him on the books of Mr. William Filby. 
Were the bright eyes of the Jessamy Bride responsible for this 
additional extravagance of wardrobe ? Groldsmith had recently 
been editing the works of Parnell ; had he taken courage from 
the example of Edwin in the Fairy tale ? — 

" Yet spite of all that nature did 
To make his uncouth form forbid, 

This creature dared to love. 
He felt the force of Edith's eyes. 
Nor wanted hope to gain the prize 

Could ladies look within " 

All this we throw out as mere hints and surmises, leaving it 
to our readers to draw their own conclusions. It will be found, 
however, that the poet was subjected to shrewd bantering among 
his contemporaries about the beautiful Mary Horneck, and that 
he was extremely sensitive on the subject. 

It was in the month of June that he set out for Paris with 
his fair companions, and the following letter was written by him 
to Sir Joshua Reynolds, soon after the party landed at Calais : 

" My dear FpaEND, 

" We had a very quick passage from Dover to Calais, which 
we performed in three hours and twenty minutes, all of us ex- 



256 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



tremely sea-sick, whicli must necessarily have happened, as my 
machine to prevent sea-sickness was not completed. We were 
glad to leave Dover, because we hated to be imposed upon ; so 
were in high spirits at coming to Calais, where we were told that 
a little money would go a great way. 

" Upon landing, with two little trunks, which was all we carried 
with us, we were surprised to see fourteen or fifteen fellows all 
running down to the ship to lay their hands upon them ; four got 
under each trunk, the rest surrounded and held the hasps ; and 
in this manner our little baggage was conducted, with a kind of 
funeral solemnity, till it was safely lodged at the custom-house. 
We were well enough pleased with the people's civility till they 
came to be paid ; every creature that had the happiness of but 
touching our trunks with their finger expected sixpence ; and 
they had so pretty and civil a manner of demanding it, that there 
was no refusing them. 

" When we had done with the porters, we had next to speak 
with the custom-house ofiicers, who had their pretty civil way too. 
We were directed to the Hotel d'Angleterre, where a valet-de- 
place came to offer his service, and spoke to me ten minutes be- 
fore I once found out that he was speaking English. We had no 
occasion for his services, so we gave him a little money because 
he spoke English, and because he wanted it. I cannot help 
mentioning another circumstance : I bought a new riband for my 
wig at Canterbury, and the barber at Calais broke it in order to 
gain sixpence by buying me a new one." 

An incident which occurred in the course of this tour has been 
tortured by that literary magpie, Boswell, into a proof of Grold- 
smith's absurd jealousy of any admiration shown to others in his 



BOSWELL'S ABSURDITIES. 257 



presence. While stopping at a hotel in Lisle, they were drawn to 
the windows by a. military parade in front. The extreme beauty 
of the Miss Hornecks immediately attracted the attention of 
the ofl&cers, who broke forth with enthusiastic speeches and com- 
pliments intended for their ears. Goldsmith was amused for a 
hile, but at length affected impatience at this exclusive admira- 
tion of his beautiful companions, and exclaimed, with mock seve- 
rity of aspect, " Elsewhere I also would have my admirers." 

It is difficult to conceive the obtuseness of intellect necessary 
to misconstrue so obvious a piece of mock petulance and dry hu- 
mor into an instance of mortified vanity and jealous self-conceit. 

Goldsmith jealous of the admiration of a group of gay officers 
for the charms of two beautiful young women ! This even out- 
Boswells Boswell ; yet this is but one of several similar absurdi- 
ties, evidently misconceptions of Goldsmith's peculiar vein of 
humor, by which the charge of envious jealousy has been at- 
tempted to be fixed upon him. In the present instance it was 
contradicted by one of the ladies herself, who was annoyed that 
it had been advanced against him. " I am sure," said she, " from 
the peculiar manner of his humor, and assumed frown of coun- 
tenance, what was often uttered in jest was mistaken, by those 
who did not know him, for earnest." No one was more prone to 
err on this point than Boswell. He had a tolerable perception 
of wit, but none of humor. 

The following letter to Sir Joshua Reynolds was subsequently 
•written : 

" To Sir Jos/ma Reynolds. 

" Paris, July 29, (1770.) 
" My dear Friend, — I began a long letter to you from Lisle, 
giving a description of all that we had done and seen, but, find- 



258 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



ing it very dull, and knowing that you would show it again, I 
threw it aside and it was lost. You see by the top of this letter 
that we are at Paris, and (as I have often heard you say) we have 
brought our own amusement with us, for the ladies do not seem 
to be very fond of what we have yet seen. 

" With regard to myself, I find that travelling at twenty and 
forty are very different things. I set out with all my confirmed 
habits about me, and can find nothing on the Continent so good 
as when I formerly left it. One of our chief amusements here is 
scolding at every thing we meet with, and praising every thing 
and every person we left at home. You may judge, therefore; 
whether your name is not frequently bandied at table among us. 
To tell you the truth, I never thought I could regret your ab- 
sence so much as our various mortifications on the road have 
often taught me to do. I could tell you of disasters and adven- 
tures without number ; of our lying in barns, and of my being 
half poisoned with a dish of green peas ; of our quarrelling with 
postillions, and being cheated by our landladies ; but I reserve 
all this for a happy hour which I expect to share with you upon 
my return. 

" I have little to tell you more but that we are at present all 
well, and expect returning when we have stayed out one month, 
which I did not care if it were over this very day. I long to hear 
from you all, how you yourself do, how Johnson, Burke, Dyer, 
Chamier, Colman, and every one of the club do. I wish I could 
send you some amusement in this letter, but I protest I am so 
stupefied by the air of this country (for I am sure it cannot be 
natural) that I have not a word to say. I have been thinking of 
the plot of a comedy, which shall be entitled A Journey to Paris, 
in which a family shall be introduced with a full intention of 



LETTER TO REYNOLDS. 259 



going to France to save money. You know there is not a place 
in the world more promising for that purpose. As for the meat 
of this country, I can scarce eat it ; and, though we pay two good 
shillings a head for our dinner, I find it all so tough that I have 
spent less time with my knife than my picktooth. I said this as 
a good thing at the table, but it was not understood, I believe 
it to be a good thing. 

"As for our intended journey to Devonshire, I find it out of 
my power to perform it ; for, as soon as I arrive at Dover, I in- 
tend to let the ladies go on, and I will take a country lodging 
somewhere near that place in order to do some business. I have 
so outrun the constable that I must mortify a little to bring it up 
again. For God's sake, the night you receive this, take your pen 
in your hand and tell me something about yourself and myself, 
if you know any thing that has happened. About Miss Reynolds, 
about Mr. Bickerstaff, my nephew, or any body that you regard. 
I beg you will send to Griffin the bookseller to know if there be 
any letters left for me, and be so good as to send them to me at 
Paris. They may perhaps be left for me at the Porter's Lodge, 
opposite the pump in Temple Lane. The same messenger will 
do. I expect one from Lord Clare, from Ireland. As for the 
others, I am not much uneasy about. 

" Is there any thing I can do for you at Paris ? I wish you 
would tell me. The whole of my own purchases here is one silk 
coat, which I have put on, and which makes me look like a fool. 
But no more of that. I find that Colman has gained his lawsuit. 
I am glad of it. I suppose you often meet. I will soon be 
among you, better pleased with my situation at home than I ever 
was before. And yet I must say, that if any thing could make 
France pleasant, the very good women with whom I am at pre- 



260 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



sent would certainly do it. I could say more about that, but I 
intend stowing them the letter before I send it away. "What sig- 
nifies teazing you longer with moral observations, when the busi- 
ness of my writing is over ? I have one thing only more to say, 
and of that I think every hour in the day, namely that I am your 
most sincere and most affectionate friend, 

" Oliver G-oldsmith. 

" Direct to me at the Hotel de Danemarc, ) 
Rue Jacob, Fauxbourg St. Germains." ) 

A word of comment on this letter : 

Travelling is, indeed, a very different thing with Groldsmith 
the poor student at twenty, and Groldsmith the poet and professor 
at forty. At twenty, though obliged to trudge on foot from town 
to town, and country to country, paying for a supper and a bed 
by a tune on the flute, every thing pleased, every thing was good ; 
a truckle bed in a garret was a couch of down, and the homely 
fare of the peasant a feast fit for an epicure. Now, at forty, when 
he posts through the country in a carriage, with fair ladies by his 
side, every thing goes wrong : he has to quarrel with postillions, 
he is cheated by landladies, the hotels are barns, the meat is too 
tough to be eaten, and he is half poisoned by green peas ! A line in 
his letter explains the secret : " the ladies do not seem to be very 
fond of what we have yet seen." " One of our chief amusements is 
scolding at every thing we meet with, and praising every thing 
and every person we have left at home !" the true English tra- 
velling amusement. Poor Groldsmith ! he has " all his confi-nned 
habits about him ;" that is to say, he has recently risen into high 
life, and acquired high-bred notions ; he must be fastidious like 
his fellow-travellers ; he dare not be pleased with what pleased 
the vulgar tastes of his youth. He is unconsciously illustrating 



THE SPECIAL ATTORNEY. 261 



the trait so humorously satirized by him in Ned Tihbs, the shabby 
beau, who can find " no such dressing as he had at Lord Crump's 
or Lady Crimp's ;" whose very senses have grown genteel, and 
who no longer " smacks at wretched wine or praises detestable 
custard." A lurking thorn, too, is worrying him throughout this 
tour ; he has " outrun the constable ;" that is to say, his expenses 
have outrun his means, and he will have to make up for this but- 
terfly flight by toiling like a grub on his return. 

Another circumstance contributes to mar the pleasure he had 
promised himself in this excursion. At Paris the party is unex- 
pectedly joined by a Mr. Hickey, a bustling attorney, who is well 
acquainted with that metropolis and its environs, and insists on 
playing the cicerone on all occasions. He and Goldsmith do not 
relish each other, and they have several petty altercations. The 
lawyer is too much a man of business and method for the careless 
poet, and is disposed to manage every thing. He has perceived 
Goldsmith's whimsical peculiarities without properly appreciating 
his merits, and is prone to indulge in broad bantering and raillery 
at his expense, particularly irksome if indulged in presence of the 
ladies. He makes himself merry on his return to England, by 
giving the following anecdote as illustrative of Goldsmith's vanity: 

" Being with a party at Versailles, viewing the water-works, 
a question arose among the gentlemen present, whether the dis- 
tance from whence they stood to one of the little islands was 
within the compass of a leap. Goldsmith maintained the affirma- 
tive ; but, being bantered on the subject, and remembering hia 
former prowess as a youth, attempted the leap, but, falling short, 
descended into the water, to the great amusement of the company." 

Was the Jessamy Bride a witness of this unlucky exploit ? 

This same Hickey is the one of whom Goldsmith, some time 



262 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



subsequently, gave a good-humored sketch, in his poem of " The 
Retaliation." 

" Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature. 
And slander itself must allow him good nature ; 
He cherish'd his friend, and he relish'd a bumper. 
Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper. 
Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser ; 
I answer No, no, for he always was wiser ; 
Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat. 
His very worst foe can't accuse him of that ; 
Perhaps he confided in men as they go. 
And so was too foolishly honest '! Ah, no ! 
Then what was his failing ? Come, tell it, and burn ye — 
He was, could he help it? a special attorney," 

One of the few remarks extant made by Groldsmith during his 
tour is the following, of whimsical import, in his " Animated 
Nature." 

" In going through the towns of France, some time since, I 
could not help observing how much plainer their parrots spoke 
than ours, and how very distinctly I understood their parrots 
speak French, when I could not understand our own, though they 
spoke my native language. I at first ascribed it to the different 
qualities of the two languages, and was for entering into an ela- 
borate discussion on the vowels and consonants ; but a friend that 
was with me solved the difficulty at once, by assuring me that 
the French women scarce did any thing else the whole day than 
sit and instruct their feathered pupils ; and that the birds were 
thus distinct in their lessons in consequence of continual 
schooling." 

His tour does not seem to have left in his memory the most 



TRAVELLING HINTS. 263 



fragrant recollections ; for, being asked, after his return, whether 
travelling on the Continent repaid " an Englishman for the pri- 
vations and annoyances attendant on it," he replied, " I recom- 
mend it by all means to the sick, if they are without the sense of 
smelling, and to the poor if they are without the sense oi feeling; 
and to both if they can discharge from their minds all idea of 
what in England we term comfort." 

It is needless to say, that the universal improvement in the 
art of living on the Continent has at the present day taken away 
the force of Goldsmith's reply, though even at the time it was 
more humorous than correct. 



264 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Death of Goldsmith's mother. — Biography of Parnell. — Agreement with 
Davies for the History of Rome. — Life of Bolingbroke. — The haunch of 



On his return to England, Groldsmith received the melancholy 
tidings of the death of his mother. Notwithstanding the fame 
as an author to which he had attained, she seems to have been 
disappointed in her early expectations from him. Like others 
of his family, she had been more vexed by his early follies than 
pleased by his proofs of genius; and in subsequent years, when he 
had risen to fame and to intercourse with the great, had been an- 
noyed at the ignorance of the world and want of management, 
which prevented him from pushing his fortune. He had always, 
however, been an affectionate son, and in the latter years of her 
life, when she had become blind, contributed from his precarious 
resources to prevent her from feeling want. 

He now resumed the labors of the pen, which his recent excur- 
sion to Paris rendered doubly necessary. We should have men- 
tioned a Life of Parnell, published by him shortly after the De- 
serted Village. It was, as usual, a piece of job-work, hastily got 
up for pocket-money. Johnson spoke slightingly of it, and the 
author, himself, thought proper to apologize for its meagerness ; 
yet, in so doing, used a simile, which for beauty of imagery and 



A POET'S LIFE. 265 



felicity of language, is enough of itself to stamp a value upon 
the essay. 

" Such," says he, " is the very unpoetieal detail of the life of 
a poet. Some dates and some few facts, scarcely more interest- 
ing than those that make the ornaments of a country tombstone, 
are all that remain of one whose labors now begin to excite uni- 
versal curiosity. A poet, while living, is seldom an object suffi- 
ciently great to attract much attention ; his real merits are 
known but to a few, and these are generally sparing in their 
praises. When his fame is increased by time, it is then too late 
to investigate the peculiarities of his disposition ; tlie deivs of 
morning are past^ and we vainly try to continue the chase by tJie 
meridian splendor." 

He now entered into an agreement with Davies, to prepare an 
abridgment in one volume duodecimo, of his History of Rome ; 
but first to write a work for which there was a more immediate de- 
mand. Davies was about to republish Lord Bolingbroke's Dis- 
sertation on Parties, which he conceived would be exceedingly 
applicable to the affairs of the day, and make a probable hit 
during the existing state of violent political excitement ; to give 
it still greater effect and currency he engaged Goldsmith to intro- 
duce it with a prefatory life of Lord Bolingbroke. 

About this time Goldsmith's friend and countryman. Lord 
Clare, was in great affliction, caused by the death of his only 
son. Colonel Nugent, and stood in need of the sympathies of 
a kind-hearted friend. At his request, therefore. Goldsmith paid 
him a visit at his seat of Gosfield, taking his tasks with 
him. Davies was in a worry lest Gosfield Park should prove a 
Capua to the poet, and the time be lost. " Dr. Goldsmith," writes 
he to a friend, " has gone with Lord Clare into the country, 

12 



266 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



and I am plagued to get the proofs from him of the Life of Lord 
Bolingbroke." The proofs, however, were furnished in time for 
the publication of the work in December. The Biography, 
though written during a time of political turmoil, and introducing 
a work intended to be thrown into the arena of politics, main- 
tained that freedom from party prejudice observable in all the 
writings of Groldsmith. It was a selection of facts, drawn from 
many unreadable sources, and arranged into a clear, flowing 
narrative, illustrative of the career and character of one, who, 
as he intimates, "seemed formed by nature to take delight in 
struggling with opposition ; whose most agreeable hours were 
passed in storms of his own creating ; whose life was spent in 
a continual conflict of politics, and as if that was too short for 
the combat, has left his memory as a subject of lasting conten- 
tion." The sum received by the author for this memoir, is sup- 
posed, from circumstances, to have been forty pounds. 

Groldsmith did not find the residence among the great unat- 
tended with mortifications. He had now become accustomed to 
be regarded in London as a literary lion, and was annoyed, at 
what he considered a slight, on the part of Lord Camden. He 
complained of it on his return to town at a party of his friends. 
" I met him," said he, " at Lord Clare's house in the country ; 
and he took no more notice of me than if I had been an ordinary 
man." " The company," says Boswell, " laughed heartily at this 
piece of ' diverting simplicity.' " And foremost among the laugh- 
ers was doubtless the rattle-pated Boswell. Johnson, however, 
stepped forward, as usual, to defend the poet, whom he would 
allow no one to assail but himself ; perhaps in the present in- 
stance he thought the dignity of literature itself involved in the 
question. " Nay, gentlemen," roared he, " Dr. Goldsmith is in 



THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. 267 



the right. A nobleman ought to have made up to such a man 
as Groldsmith, and I think it is much against Lord Camden that 
he neglected him." 

After Goldsmith's return to town he received from Lord 
Clare a present of game, which he has celebrated and perpetuated 
in his amusing verses entitled the " Haunch of Venison." Some 
of the lines pleasantly set forth the embarrassment caused by 
the appearance of such an aristocratic delicacy in the humble 
kitchen of a poet, accustomed to look up to mutton as a treat : 

" Thanks, my lord, for your venison ; for finer or fatter 
Never rang'd in a forest, or smok'd in a platter : 
The haunch was a picture for painters to study. 
The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy ; 
Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help regretting, 
To spoil such a delicate picture by eathig : 
I had thought in my chambers to place it in view. 
To be shown to my friends as a piece of virtu ; 
As in some Irish houses where things are so-so. 
One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show ; 
But, for eating a rasher, of what they take pride in. 
They'd as soon think of eating the pan it was fry'd in. 
******* 
But hang it — to poets, who seldom can eat. 
Your very good mutton's a very good treat ; 
Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt ; 
li^s like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt." 

We have an amusing anecdote of one of Groldsmith's blun- 
ders which took place on a subsequent visit to Lord Clare's, when 
that nobleman was residing in Bath. 

Lord Clare and the Duke of Northumberland had houses 



268 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



next to eacli other, of similar architecture. Returning home 
one morning from an early walk, Groldsmith, in one of his fre- 
quent fits of absence, mistook the house, and walked up into the 
duke's dining-room, where he and the duchess were about to sit 
down to breakfast. Groldsmith, still supposing himself in the 
house of Lord Clare, and that they were visitors, made them an 
easy salutation, being acquainted with them, and threw himself 
on a sofa in the lounging manner of a man perfectly at home. 
The duke and duchess soon perceived his mistake, and, while 
they smiled internally, endeavored, with the considerateness of 
well-bred people, to prevent any awkward embarrassment. They 
accordingly chatted sociably with him about matters in Bath, un- 
til, breakfast being served, they invited him to partake. The 
truth at once flashed upon poor heedless Groldsmith ; he started 
up from his free-and-easy position, made a confused apology for 
his blunder, and would have retired perfectly disconcerted, had 
not the duke and duchess treated the whole as a lucky occur- 
rence to throw him in their way, and exacted a promise from him 
to dine with them. 

This may be hung up as a companion-piece to his blunder on 
his first visit to Northumberland House. 



DINNER AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY. 269 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

Dinner at the Royal Academy. — The Rowley controversy. — Horace Walpole'g 
conduct to Chatterton. — Johnson at Redcliffe Church. — Goldsmith's His- 
tory of England. — Davies's criticism. — Letter to Bennet Langton. 

On St. George's day of this year (1771), the first annual banquet 
of the Royal Academy was held in the exhibition room ; the 
walls of which were covered with works of art, about to be sub- 
mitted to public inspection. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who first sug- 
gested this elegant festival, presided in his official character ; Drs. 
Johnson and Goldsmith, of course, were present, as professors of 
the academy ; and, beside the academicians, there was a large 
number of the most distinguished men of the day as guests. 
Goldsmith on this occasion drew on himself the attention of the 
company by launching out with enthusiasm on the poems recently 
given to the world by Chatterton, as the works of an ancient 
author by the name of Rowley, discovered in the tower of Red- 
cliffe Church, at Bristol. Goldsmith spoke of them with rap- 
ture, as a treasure of old English poetry. This immediately 
raised the question of their authenticity ; they having been 
pronounced a forgery of Chatterton's. Goldsmith was warm 
for their being genuine. When he considered, he said, the merit 
of the poetry ; the acquaintance with life and the human heart 



270 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



displayed in them, the antique quaintness of the language and 
the familiar knowledge of historical events of their supposed 
day, he could not believe it possible they could be the work of a 
boy of sixteen, of narrow education, and confined to the duties 
of an attorney's office. They must be the productions of Rowley. 

Johnson, who was a stout unbeliever in Rowley, as he had 
been in Ossian, rolled in his chair and laughed at the enthusi- 
asm of Groldsmith. Horace Walpole, who sat near by, joined in 
the laugh and jeer as soon as he found that the " trouvaille^' as 
he called it, " of his friend Chatterton " was in question. This 
matter, which had excited the simple admiration of Goldsmith, 
was no novelty to him, he said. " He might, had he pleased, 
have had the honor of ushering the great discovery to the 
learned world." And so he might, had he followed his first 
impulse in the matter, for he himself had been an original 
believer ; had pronounced some specimen verses sent to him by 
Chatterton wonderful for their harmony and spirit ; and had 
been ready to print them and publish them to the world with his 
sanction. When he found, however, that his unknown corre- 
spondent was a mere boy, humble in sphere and indigent in 
circumstances, and when Gray and Mason pronounced the poems 
forgeries, he had changed his whole conduct towards the unfor- 
tunate author, and by his neglect and coldness had dashed all 
his sanguine hopes to the ground. 

Exulting in his superior discernment, this cold-hearted man 
of society now went on to divert himself, as he says, with the 
credulity of Goldsmith, whom he was accustomed to pronounce 
" an inspired idiot ;" but his mirth was soon dashed, for on 
asking the poet what had become of this Chatterton, he was 
answered, doubtless in the feeling tone of one who had experi- 



CHATTERTON. 271 



enced the pangs of despondent genius, that "he had been to 
London, and had destroyed himself." 

The reply struck a pang of self-reproach even to the cold 
heart of Walpole ; a faint blush may have visited his cheek at 
his recent levity. " The persons of honor and veracity who were 
present," said he in after years, when he found it necessary to 
exculpate himself from the charge of heartless neglect of genius, 
" will attest with what surprise and concern I thus first heard of 
his death." Well might he feel concern. His cold neglect had 
doubtless contributed to madden the spirit of that youthful 
genius, and hurry him towards his untimely end ; nor have all 
the excuses and palliations of Walpole's friends and admirers 
been ever able entirely to clear this stigma from his fame. 

But what was there in the enthusiasm and credulity of 
honest Goldsmith in this matter, to subject him to the laugh of 
Johnson or the raillery of Walpole ? Grranting the poems were 
not ancient, were they not good? Granting they were not the 
productions of Rowley, were they the less admirable for being 
the productions of Chatterton? Johnson himself testified to 
their merits and the genius of their composer, when, some years 
afterwards, he visited the tower of Eedcliflfe Church, and was 
shown the cofiier in which poor Chatterton had pretended to find 
them. " This," said he, "is the most extraordinary young man 
that has encountered my knowledge. It is wonderful how tlie 
whelp has written such things.'''' 

As to Goldsmith, he persisted in his credulity, and had sub- 
sequently a dispute with Dr. Percy on the subject, which inter- 
rupted and almost destroyed their friendship. After all, his 
enthusiasm was of a generous, poetic kind ; the poems remain 
beautiful monuments of genius, and it is even now difficult to 



272 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



persuade one's self that they could be entirely the productions 
of a youth of sixteen. 

In the month of August, was published anonymously the 
History of England, on which Groldsmith had been for some time 
employed. It was in four volumes, compiled chiefly, as he 
acknowledged in the preface, from Kapin, Carte, Smollett, and 
Hume, " each of whom," says he, " have their admirers, in pro- 
portion as the reader is studious of political antiquities, fond of 
minute anecdote, a warm partisan, or a deliberate reasoner." It 
possessed the same kind of merit as his other historical compila- 
tions ; a clear, succinct narrative, a simple, easy, and graceful 
style, and an agreeable arrangement of facts ; but was not 
remarkable for either depth of observation or minute accuracy 
of research. Many passages were transferred, with little if any 
alteration, from his "Letters from a Nobleman to his Son" on 
the same subject. The work, though written without party 
feeling, met with sharp animadversions from political scribblers. 
The writer was charged with being unfriendly to liberty, dis- 
posed to elevate monarchy above its proper sphere ; a tool of 
ministers ; one who would betray his country for a pension. 
Tom Davies, the publisher, the pompous little bibliopole of 
Hussell-street, alarmed lest the book should prove unsaleable, 
undertook to protect it by his pen, and wrote a long article in 
its defence in " The Public Advertiser." He was vain of his 
critical effusion, and sought by nods and winks and inuendoes to 
intimate his authorship. " Have you seen," said he in a letter 
to a friend, " ' An Impartial Account of Groldsmith's History of 
England V If you want to know who was the writer of it, you 
will find him in Russell-street ; — but mum !" 

The history, on the whole, however, was well received ; some 



LETTER TO LANGTON. 273 



of the critics declared that English history had never before been 
so usefully, so elegantly, and agreeably epitomized, " and, like his 
other historical writings, it has kept its ground" in English lite- 
rature. 

Goldsmith had intended this summer, in company with Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, to pay a visit to Bennet Langton, at his seat 
in Lincolnshire, where he was settled in domestic life, having 
the year previously married the Countess Dowager of Rothes. 
The following letter, however, dated from his chambers in the 
Temple, on the 7th of September, apologizes for putting off the 
visit, while it gives an amusing account of his summer occupa- 
tions and of the attacks of the critics on his History of England : 

" My dear Sir, 

" Since I had the pleasure of seeing you last, I have 
been almost wholly in the country, at a farmer's house, quite 
alone, trying to write a comedy. It is now finished ; but 
when or how it will be acted, or whether it will be acted at all, 
are questions I cannot resolve. I am therefore so much em- 
ployed upon that, that I am under the necessity of putting off 
my intended visit to Lincolnshire for this season. Reynolds is 
just returned from Paris, and finds himself now in the case of a 
truant that must make up for his idle time by diligence. We 
have therefore agreed to postpone our journey till next summer, 
when we hope to have the honor of waiting upon Lady Rothes 
and you, and staying double the time of our late intended visit. 
We often meet, and never without remembering you. I see Mr. 
Beauclerc very often both in town and country. He is now going 
directly forward to become a second Boyle : deep in chemistry 
and physics. Johnson has been down on a visit to a country 

12* 



274 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



parson, Doctor Taylor ; and is returned to his old haunts at Mrs. 
Thrale's. Burke is a farmer, en attendant a better place ; but 
visiting about too. Every soul is visiting about and merry but 
myself. And that is hard too, as I have been trying these three 
months to do something to make people laugh. There have I 
been strolling about the hedges, studying jests with a most tra- 
gical countenance. The Natural History is about half finished, 
and I will shortly finish the rest. Grod knows I am tired of this 
kind of finishing, which is but bungling work ; and that not so 
much my fault as the fault of my scurvy circumstances. They 
begin to talk in town of the Opposition's gaining ground ; the cry 
of liberty is still as loud as ever. I have published, or Davies 
has published for me, an Abridgment of the History of England, 
for which I have been a good deal abused in the newspapers, for 
betraying the liberties of the people. Grod knows I had no 
thought for or against liberty in my head ; my whole aim being 
to make up a book of a decent size, that, as 'Squire Richard says, 
woidd do no harm to nobody. However, they set me down as an 
arrant Tory, and consequently an honest man. When you come 
to look at any part of it, you'll say that I am a sore Whig. Grod 
bless you, and with my most respectful compliments to her Lady- 
ship, I remain, dear Sir, your most affectionate humble servant, 

" Oliver Gtoldsmith." 



MARRIAGE OF LITTLE COMEDY. 275 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Marriage of Little Comedy. — Goldsmith at Barton. — Practical jokes at the 
expense of his toilet. — Amusements at Barton. — Aquatic misadventure. 

Though Goldsmith found it impossible to break from his literary 
occupations to visit Bennet Langton, in Lincolnshire, he soon 
yielded to attractions from another quarter, in which somewhat 
of sentiment may have mingled. Miss Catherine Horneck, one 
of his beautiful fellow-travellers, otherwise called Little Comedy, 
had been married in August to Henry William Bunbury, Esq., 
a gentleman of fortune, who has become celebrated for the humor- 
ous productions of his pencil. Goldsmith was shortly afterwards 
invited to pay the newly married couple a visit at their seat, at 
Barton, in Suffolk. How could he resist such an invitation — 
especially as the Jessamy Bride would, of course, be among the 
guests ? It is true, he was hampered with work ; he was still 
more hampered with debt ; his accounts with Newbery were per- 
plexed ; but all must give way. New advances are procured 
from Newbery, on the promise of a new tale in the style of the 
Vicar of Wakefield, of which he showed him a few roughly- 
sketched chapters ; so, his purse replenished in the old way, '• by 
hook or by crook," he posted off to visit the bride at Barton. He 
found there a joyous household, and one where he was welcomed 
with affection. Garrick was there, and played the part of mas- 



276 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



ter of the revels, for he was an intimate friend of the master 
of the house. Notwithstanding early misunderstandings, a 
social intercourse betwQ,en the actor and the poet had grown up 
of late, from meeting together continually in the same circle. A 
few particulars have reached us concerning Groldsmith while on this 
happy visit. We believe the legend has come down from Miss 
Mary Horneck herself " While at Barton," she says, " his man- 
ners were always playful and amusing, taking the lead in promoting 
any scheme of innocent mirth, and usually prefacing the invita- 
tion with ' Come, now, let us play the fool a little.' At cards, 
which was commonly a round game, and the stake small, he was 
always the most noisy, affected great eagerness to win, and teased 
his opponents of the gentler sex with continual jest and banter 
on their want of spirit in not risking the hazards of the game. 
But one of his most favorite enjoyments was to romp with the 
children, when he threw off all reserve, and seemed one of the 
most joyous of the group. 

" One of the means by which he amused us was his songs, 
chiefly of the comic kind, which were sung with some taste and 
humor ; several, I believe, were of his own composition, and I re- 
gret that I neither have copies, which might have been readily 
procured from him at the time, nor do I remember their names." 

His perfect good humor made him the object of tricks of all 
kinds ; often in retaliation of some prank which he himself had 
played off. Unluckily, these tricks were sometimes made at the 
expense of his toilet, which, with a view peradventure to please the 
eye of a certain fair lady, he had again enriched to the impoverish- 
ment of his purse. " Being at all times gay in his dress," says 
this ladylike legend, " he made his appearance at the breakfast- 
table in a smart black silk coat with an expensive pair of ruffles ; 



AQUATIC MISADVENTURE. 277 



the coat some one contrived to soil, and it was sent to be 
cleansed ; but, either by accident, or probably by design, the 
day after it came home, the sleeves became daubed with paint, 
which was not discovered until the ruffles also, to his great mor- 
tification, were irretrievably disfigured. 

" He always wore a wig, a peculiarity which those who judge 
of his appearance only from the fine poetical head of Reynolds 
would not suspect ; and on one occasion some person contrived 
seriously to injure this important adjunct to dress. It was the 
only one he had in the country, and the misfortune seemed irre- 
parable until the services of Mr. Bunbury's valet were called in, 
who, however, performed his functions so indifferently, that poor 
Goldsmith's appearance became the signal for a general smile." 

This was wicked waggery, especially when it was directed to 
mar all the attempts of the unfortunate poet to improve his 
personal appearance, about which he was at all times dubiously 
sensitive, and particularly when among the ladies. 

We have in a former chapter recorded his unlucky tumble 
into a fountain at Versailles, when attempting a feat of agility 
in presence of the fair Hornecks. Water was destined to be 
equally baneful to him on the present occasion. " Some difference 
of opinion," says the fair narrator, " having arisen with Lord 
Harrington respecting the depth of a pond, the poet remarked 
that it was not so deep but that, if any thing valuable was to be 
found at the bottom, he would not hesitate to pick it up. His 
lordship, after some banter, threw in a guinea ; Goldsmith, not 
to be outdone in this kind of bravado, in attempting to fulfil his 
promise without getting wet, accidentally fell in, to the amuse- 
ment of all present, but persevered, brought out the money, and 



278 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



kept it, remarking that he had abundant objects on whom to 
bestow any farther proofs of his lordship's whim or bounty." 

All this is recorded by the beautiful Mary Horneck, the 
Jessamy Bride herself; but while she gives these amusing pic- 
tures of poor Goldsmith's eccentricities, and of the mischievous 
pranks, played off upon him, she bears unqualified testimony, 
which we have quoted elsewhere, to the qualities of his head and 
heart, which shone forth in his countenance, and gained him 
the love of all who knew him. 

Among the circumstances of this visit vaguely called to mind 
by this fair lady in after years, was that Groldsmith read to her 
and her sister the first part of a novel which he had in hand. It 
was doubtless the manuscript mentioned at the beginning of this 
chapter, on which he had obtained an advance of money from 
Newbery to stave off some pressing debts, and to provide funds 
for this verj' visit. It never was finished. The bookseller, when 
he came afterwards to examine the manuscript, objected to it as 
a mere narrative version of the Grood-Natured Man. Goldsmith, 
too easily put out of conceit of his writings, threw it aside, for- 
getting that this was the very Newbery who kept his Vicar of 
Wakefield by him nearly two years through doubts of its success. 
The loss of the manuscript is deeply to be regretted ; it doubt 
less would have been properly wrought up before given to the 
press, and might have given us new scenes in life and traits of 
character, while it could not fail to bear traces of his delightful 
style. What a pity he had not been guided by the opinions of his 
fair listeners at Barton, instead of that of the astute Mr. Newbery ! 



DINNER AT OGLETHORPE'S. 279 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Dinner at General Oglethorpe's. — Anecdotes of the general. — Dispute about 
duelling. — Ghost stories. 

We have mentioned old General Oglethorpe as one of Gold- 
smith's aristocratical acquaintances. This veteran, born in 1698, 
had commenced life early, by serving, when a mere stripling, un- 
der Prince Eugene, against the Turks. He had continued in 
military life, and been promoted to the rank of major-general in 
1745, and received a command during the Scottish rebellion. 
Being of strong Jacobite tendencies, he was suspected and 
accused of favoring the rebels ; and though acquitted by a court 
of inquiry, was never afterwards employed ; or, in technical lan- 
guage, was shelved. He had since been repeatedly a member of 
parliament, and had always distinguished himself by learning. 
taste, active benevolence, and high Tory principles. His name, 
however, has become historical, chiefly from his transactions in 
America, and the share he took in the settlement of the colony 
of Georgia. It lies embalmed in honorable immortality in a sin- 
gle line of Pope's : 

" One, driven by strong benevolence of soul, 
Shall fly, like Oglethorpe, from pole to pole." 

The veteran was now seventy-four years of age, but healthy 



280 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



and vigorous, and as mucli tlie preux chevalier as in his younger 
days, when he served with Prince Eugene. His table was often 
the gathering-place of men of talent. Johnson was frequently 
there, and delighted in drawing from the general details of his 
various " experiences." He was anxious that he should give the 
world his life. " I know no man," said he, " whose life would be 
more interesting." Still the vivacity of the general's mind and 
the variety of his knowledge made him skip from subject to sub- 
ject too fast for the Lexicographer. " Oglethorpe," growled he, 
" never completes what he has to say." 

Boswell gives us an interesting and characteristic account of 
a dinner party at the general's, (April 10th, 1772,) at which 
Groldsmith and Johnson were present. After dinner, when the 
cloth was removed, Oglethorpe, at Johnson's request, gave an 
account of the siege of Belgrade, in the true veteran style. 
Pouring a little wine upon the table, he drew his lines and paral- 
lels with a wet finger, describing the positions of the opposing 
forces. " Here were we — here were the Turks," to all which 
Johnson listened with the most earnest attention, poring over 
the plans and diagrams with his usual purblind closeness. 

In the course of conversation the general gave an anecdote of 
himself in early life, when serving under Prince Eugene. Sit- 
ting at table once in company with a prince of Wurtemberg, the 
latter gave a fillip to a glass of wine, so as to make some of it 
fly in Oglethorpe's face. The manner in which it was done was 
somewhat, equivocal. How was it to be taken by the stripling 
officer ? If seriously, he must challenge the prince ; but in so 
doing he might fix on himself the character of a drawcansir. 
If passed over without notice, he might be charged with coward- 
ice. His mind was made up in an instant. " Prince," said he, 



DISPUTE ABOUT DUELLING. 281 



smiling, " that is an excellent joke ; but we do it much better in 
England." So saying, he threw a whole glass of wine in the 
prince's face. " II a bien fait, men prince," cried an old general 
present, "vous I'avez commence." (He has done right, my 
prince; you commenced it.) The prince had the good sense to 
acquiesce in the decision of the veteran, and Oglethorpe's retort 
in kind was taken in good part. 

It was probably at the close of this story that the oflBcious 
Boswell, ever anxious to promote conversation for the benefit of 
his note-book, started the question whether duelling were consist- 
ent with moral duty. The old general fired up in an instant. 
" Undoubtedly," said he, with a lofty air ; " undoubtedly a man 
has a right to defend his honor." Goldsmith immediately car- 
ried the war into Boswell's own quarters, and pinned him with 
the question, " what he would do if affronted ?" The pliant 
Boswell, who for the moment had the fear of the general rather 
than of Johnson before his eyes, replied, " he should think it 
necessary to fight." " Why, then, that solves the question," re- 
plied Goldsmith. "No, sir!" thundered out Johnson ; " it does 
not follow that what a man would do, is therefore right." He, 
however, subsequently went into a discussion to show that there 
were necessities in the case arising out of the artificial refinement 
of society, and its proscription of any one who should put up with 
an afi"ront without fighting a duel. " He then," concluded he, 
" who fights a duel does not fight from passion against his anta- 
gonist, but out of self-defence, to avert the stigma of the world, 
and to prevent himself from being driven out of society. I 
could wish there were not that superfluity of refinement ; but 
while such notions prevail, no doubt a man may lawfully fight a 
duel." 



282 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Another question started was, wliether people who disagi*eed 
on a capital point could live together in friendship. Johnson 
said they might. Groldsmith said they could not, as they had not 
the idem velle atque idem nolle — the same likings and aversions. 
Johnson rejoined, that they must shun the subject on which they 
disagreed. " But, sir," said Groldsmith, " when people live toge- 
ther who have something as to which they disagree, and which 
they want to shun, they will be in the situation mentioned in the 
story of Blue Beard : ' you may look into all the chambers 
but one ;' but we should have the greatest inclination to look into 
that chamber, to talk of that subject." " Sir," thundered John- 
son, in a loud voice, " I am not saying that you could live in 
friendship with a man from whom you differ as to some point ; I 
am only saying that /could do it." 

Who will not say that Goldsmith had the best of this 
petty contest ? How just was his remark ! how felicitous the 
illustration of the blue chamber ! how rude and overbearing was 
the argumentum ad hominem of Johnson, when he felt that he had 
the worst of the argument ! 

The conversation turned upon ghosts. General Oglethorpe 
told the story of a Colonel Prendergast, an officer in the Duke of 
Marlborough's army, who predicted among his comrades that he 
should die on a certain day. The battle of Malplaquet took place 
on that day. The colonel was in the midst of it, but came out 
unhurt. The firing had ceased, and his brother officers jested 
with him about the fallacy of his prediction. " The day is not 
over," replied he, gravely ; " I shall die notwithstanding what 
you see." His words proved true. The order for a cessation of 
firing had not reached one of the French batteries, and a random 
Bhot from it killed the colonel on the spot. Among his effects 



GHOST STORIES. 283 



was found a pocket-book in which he had made a solemn entry, 
that Sir John Friend, who had been executed for high treason, 
had appeared to him, either in a dream or vision, and predicted 
that he would meet him on a certain day (the very day of the 
battle). Colonel Cecil, who took possession of the effects of Colonel 
Prendergast, and read the entry in the pocket-book, told this 
story to Pope, the poet, in the presence of General Oglethorpe. 

This story, as related by the general, appears to have been 
well received, if not credited, by both Johnson and Goldsmith, 
each of whom had something to relate in kind. Goldsmith's bro- 
ther, the clergyman in whom he had such implicit confidence, 
had assured him of his having seen an apparition. Johnson also 
had a friend, old Mr. Cave, the printer, at St. John's Gate, " an 
honest man, and a sensible man," who told him he had seen a 
ghost : he did not, however, like to talk of it, and seemed to be in 
great horror whenever it was mentioned. " And pray, sir," asked 
Boswell, " what did he say was the appearance 1" " Why, sir, 
something of a shadowy being." 

The reader will not be surprised at this superstitious turn in 
the conversation of such intelligent men, when he recollects that, 
but a few years before this time, all London had been agitated 
by the absurd story of the Cock-lane ghost ; a matter which Dr. 
Johnson had deemed worthy of his serious investigation, and 
about which Goldsmith had written a pamphlet. 



284 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Mr. Joseph Cradock. — An author's confidings. — An amanuensis. — Life at 
Edgeware. — Goldsmith conjuring. — George Colman. — The Fantoccini. 

Among the agreeable acquaintances made by Groldsmith about 
this time was a Mr. Joseph Cradock, a young gentleman of Lei- 
cestershire, living at his ease, but disposed to " make himself 
uneasy," by meddling with literature and the theatre ; in fact, he 
had a passion for plays and players, and had come up to town 
with a modified translation of Voltaire's tragedy of Zobeide, in a 
view to get it acted. There was no great difficulty in the case, 
as he was a man of fortune, had letters of introduction to persons 
of note, and was altogether in a different position from the indi- 
gent man of genius whom managers might harass with impunity. 
Groldsmith met him at the house of Yates, the actor, and finding 
that he was a friend of Lord Clare, soon became sociable with him. 
Mutual tastes quickened the intimacy, especially as they found 
means of serving each other. Groldsmith wrote an epilogue for 
the tragedy of Zobeide ; and Cradock, who was an amateur musi- 
cian, arranged the music for the Threnodia Augustalis, a lament 
on the death of the Princess Dowager of Wales, the political 
mistress and patron of Lord Clare, which Groldsmith had thrown 
off hastily to please that nobleman. The tragedy was played 



AN AUTHOR'S CONFIDINGS. 285 



with some success at Covent-Grarden ; the Lament was recited 
and sung at Mrs. Cornelys' rooms — a very fashionable resort in 
Soho Square, got up by a woman of enterprise of that name. It 
was in whimsical parody of those gay and somewhat promiscuous 
assemblages that Goldsmith used to call the motley evening par- 
ties at his lodgings " little Cornelys." 

The Threnodia Augustalis was not publicly known to be by 
Goldsmith until several years after his death. 

Cradock was one of the few polite intimates who felt more 
disposed to sympathize with the generous qualities of the poet 
than to sport with his eccentricities. He sought his society 
whenever he came to town, and occasionally had him to his seat 
in the country. Goldsmith appreciated his sympathy, and un- 
burthened himself to him without reserve. Seeing the lettered 
ease in which this amateur author was enabled to live, and the 
time he could bestow on the elaboration of a manuscript, " Ah ! 
Mr. Cradock," cried he, " think of me, that must write a volume 
every month !" He complained to him of the attempts made by 
inferior writers, and by others who could scarcely come under 
that denomination, not only to abuse and depreciate his writings, 
but to render him ridiculous as a man ; perverting every harm- 
less sentiment and action into charges of absurdity, malice, or 
folly. " Sir," said he, in the fulness of his heart, " I am as a lion 
baited by curs ! " 

Another acquaintance, which he made about this time, was a 
young countryman of the name of M'Donnell, whom he met in a 
state of destitution, and, of course, befriended. The following 
grateful recollections of his kindness and his merits were fur- 
nished by that person in after years : 

" It was in the year 1772," writes he, " that the death of my 



286 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



elder brother — ^wten in London, on my way to Ireland — left me 
in a most forlorn situation ; I was then about eighteen ; I pos- 
sessed neither friends nor money, nor the means of getting to 
Ireland, of which or of England I knew scarcely any thing, from 
having so long resided in France. In this situation I had strolled 
about for two or three days, considering what to do, but unable 
to come to any determination, when Providence directed me to 
the Temple Gardens. I threw myself on a seat, and, willing to 
forget my miseries for a moment, drew out a book ; that book was 
a volume of Boileau. I had not been there long when a gentle- 
man, strolling about, passed near me, and observing, perhaps, 
something Irish or foreign in my garb or countenance, addressed 
me : ' Sir, you seem studious ; I hope you find this a favorable 
place to pursue it.' ' Not very studious, sir ; I fear it is the want 
of society that brings me hither ; I am solitary and unknown in 
this metropolis ;' and a passage from Cicero — Oratio pro Arehia — 
occurring to me, I quoted it ; ' Haec studia pernoctant nobiseum, 
peregrinantur, rustieantur.' ' You are a scholar, too, sir, I per- 
ceive.' ' A piece of one, sir ; but I ought still to have been in 
the college where I had the good fortune to pick up the little I 
know.' A good deal of conversation ensued ; I told him part of 
my history, and he, in return, gave his address in the Temple, 
desiring me to call soon, from which, to my infinite surprise and 
gratification, I found that the person who thus seemed to take an 
interest in my fate was my countryman, and a distinguished 
ornament of letters. 

" I did not fail to keep the appointment, and was received in 
the kindest manner. He told me, smilingly, that he was not rich ; 
that he could do little for me in direct pecuniary aid, but would 
endeavor to put me in the way of doing something for myself; 



AN AMANUENSIS. 287 



observing, that he could at least furnish me with advice not 
wholly useless to a young man placed in the heart of a great me- 
tropolis. ' In London,' he continued, ' nothing is to be got for 
nothing : you must work ; and no man who chooses to be indus- 
trious need be under obligations to another, for here labor of 
every kind commands its reward. If you think proper to assist 
me occasionally as amanuensis, I shall be obliged, and you will 
be placed under no obligation, until something more permanent 
can be secured for you.' This employment, which I pursued for 
some time, was to translate passages from Buffon, which was 
abridged or altered, according to circumstances, for his Natural 
History." 

Goldsmith's literary tasks were fast getting ahead of him, and 
he began now to " toil after them in vain." 

Five volumes of the Natural History here spoken of had long 
since been paid for by Mr. Grriffin, yet most of them were still to 
be written. His young amanuensis bears testimony to his em- 
barrassments and perplexities, but to the degree of equanimity 
with which he bore them : 

" It has been said," observes he, " that he was irritable. Such 
may have been the case at times ; nay, I believe it was so ; for 
what with the continual pursuit of authors, printers, and book- 
sellers, and occasional pecuniary embarrassments, few could have 
avoided exhibiting similar marks of impatience. But it was never 
so towards me. I saw him only in his bland and kind moods, 
with a flow, perhaps an overflow, of the milk of human kindness 
for all who were in any manner dependent upon him. I looked 
upon him with awe and veneration, and he upon me as a kind 
parent upon a child. 

" His manner and address exhibited much frankness and cor- 



288 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



diality, particularly to those with whom he possessed any degree 
of intimacy. His good-nature was equally apparent. You could 
not dislike the man, although several of his follies and foibles 
you might be tempted to condemn. He was generous and incon- 
siderate : money with him had little value." 

To escape from many of the tormentors just alluded to, and 
to devote himself without interruption to his task, Groldsmith 
took lodgings for the summer at a farm-house near the six-mile 
stone on the Edgeware road, and carried down his books in two 
return post-chaises. He used to say he believed the farmer's 
family thought him an odd character, similar to that in which the 
Spectator appeared to his landlady and her children : he was The 
Gentleman. Boswell tells us that he went to visit him at the 
place in company with Mickle, translator of the Lusiad. Grold- 
smith was not at home. Having a curiosity to see his apartment, 
however, they went in, and found curious scraps of descriptions 
of animals scrawled upon the wall with a black lead pencil. 

The farm-house in question is still in existence, though much 
altered. It stands upon a gentle eminence in Hyde Lane, com- 
manding a pleasant prospect towards Hendon. The room is still 
pointed out in which " She Stoops to Conquer" was written ; a 
convenient and airy apartment, up one flight of stairs. 

Some matter of fact traditions concerning the author were 
furnished, a few years since, by a son of the farmer, who was six- 
teen years of age at the time Groldsmith resided with his father. 
Though he had engaged to board with the family, his meals were 
generally sent to him in his room, in which he passed the most 
of his time, negligently dressed, with his shirt collar open,busily 
engaged in writing. Sometimes, probably when in moods of com- 
position, he would wander into the kitchen, without noticing any 



LIFE AT EDGEWARE. 289 



one, stand musing with his back to the fire, and then hurry off 
again to his room, no doubt to commit to paper some thought 
which had struck him. 

Sometimes he strolled about the fields, or was to be seen 
loitering and reading and musing under the hedges. He was 
subject to fits of wakefulness and reaaVniuch in bed ; if not dis- 
posed to read, he still kept the candle burning ; if he wished to 
extinguish it, and it was out of his reach, he flung his slipper 
at it, which would be found in the morning near the overturned 
candlestick and daubed with grease. He was noted here, as 
every where else, for his charitable feelings. No beggar applied 
to him in vain, and he evinced on all occasions great commisera- 
tion for the poor. 

He had the use of the parlor to receive and entertain com- 
pany, and was visited by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Hugh Boyd, 
the reputed author of Junius, Sir William Chambers, and 
other distinguished characters. He gave occasionally, though 
rarely, a dinner party ; and on one occasion, when his guests 
were detained by a thunder shower, he got up a dance, and car- 
ried the merriment late into the night. 

As usual, he was the promoter of hilarity among the young, 
and at one time took the children of the house to see a company 
of strolling players at Hendon. The greatest amusement to the 
party, however, was derived from his own jokes on the road and 
his comments on the performance, which produced infinite laughter 
among his youthful companions. 

Near to his rural retreat at Edgeware, a Mr. Seguin, an Irish 
merchant, of literary tastes, had country quarters for his family, 
where Goldsmith was always welcome. 

In this family he would indulge in playful and even grotesque 
13 



290 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



humor, and was ready for any tiling — conversation, music, or a 
game of romps. He prided himself upon his dancing, and would 
walk a minuet with Mrs. Seguin, to the infinite amusement of 
herself and the children, whose shouts of laughter he bore with 
perfect good-humor. He would sing Irish songs, and the Scotch 
ballad of Johnny Armstr^g. He took the lead in the children's 
sports of blind man's buff, hunt the slipper, &c., or in their 
games at cards, and was the most noisy of the party, affecting to 
cheat and to be excessively eager to win ; while with children of 
smaller size he would turn the hind part of his wig before, and 
play all kinds of tricks to amuse them. 

One word as to his musical skill and his performance on the 
flute, which comes up so invariably in all his fireside revels. He 
really knew nothing of music scientifically ; he had a good 
ear, and may have played sweetly ; but we are told he could not 
read a note of music. Roubillac, the statuary, once played 
a trick upon him in this respect. He pretended to score down 
an air as the poet played it, but put down crotchets and semi- 
breves at random. When he had finished, Goldsmith cast his 
eyes over it and pronounced it correct ! It is possible that his 
execution in music was like his style in writing ; in sweetness and 
melody he may have snatched a grace beyond the reach of art ' 

He was at all times a capital companion for children, and 
knew how to fall in with their humors. " I little thought," said 
Miss Hawkins, the woman grown, " what I should have to boast, 
when Groldsmith taught me to play Jack and Jill by two bits of 
paper on his fingers." He entertained Mrs. Garrick, we are told, 
with a whole budget of stories and songs ; delivered the Chimney 
Sweep with exquisite taste as a solo ; and performed a duet with 
Garrick of Old Rose and Burn the Bellows. 



CONJURING— GEORGE COLMAN. 291 



" I was only five years old," says the late George Colman, 
"when Groldsmith one evening when drinking coifee with my 
father, took me on his knee and began to play with me, which 
amiable act I returned with a very smart slap in the face ; it 
must have been a tingler, for I left the marks of my little spite- 
ful paw upon his cheek. This infantile outrage was followed by 
summary justice, and I was locked up by my father in an adjoin- 
ing room, to undergo solitary imprisonment in the dark. Here 
I began to howl and scream most abominably. At length a 
friend appeai-ed to extricate me from jeopardy ; it was the good- 
natured doctor himself, with a lighted candle in his hand, and a 
Bmile upon his countenance, which was still partially red from 
the eflfects of my petulance. I sulked and sobbed, and he fondled 
and soothed until I began to brighten. He seized the propitious 
moment, placed three hats upon the carpet, and a shilling under 
each ; the shillings, he told me, were England, France, and 
Spain. ' Hey, pi-esto, cockolorum !' cried the doctor, and, lo ! on 
uncovering the shillings, they were all found congregated under 
one. I was no politician at the time, and therefore might not 
have wondered at the sudden revolution which brought England, 
France, and Spain all under one crown ; but, as I was also no 
conjurer, it amazed me beyond measure. From that time, when- 
ever the doctor came to visit my father, 

" I pluck'd his gown to share the good man's smile ;" 

a game of romps constantly ensued, and we were always cordial 
friends and merry playfellows." 

Although Groldsmith made the Edgeware farmhouse his head- 
quarters for the summer, he would absent himself for weeks at 
a time on visits to Mr. Cradock, Lord Clare, and Mr. Langton, 



S92 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



at their country-seats. He would often visit town, also, to dine 
and partake of the public amusements. On one occasion he ac- 
companied Edmund Burke to witness a performance of the 
Italian Fantoccini or Puppets, in Panton-street ; an exhibition 
which had hit the caprice of the town, and was in great vogue. 
The puppets were set in motion by wires, so well concealed as to 
be with difficulty detected. Boswell, with his usual obtuseness 
with respect to G-oldsmith, accuses him of being jealous of the 
puppets ! " When Burke," said he, " praised the dexterity with 
which one of them tossed a pike," 'Pshaw,' said Groldsmith 
with some ivarmth, ' I can do it better myself " " The same 
evening," adds Boswell, " when supping at Burke's lodgings, he 
broke his shin by attempting to exhibit to the company how 
much better he could jump over a stick than the puppets." 

G-oldsmith jealous of puppets ! This even passes in absurdity 
Boswell's charge upon him of being jealous of the beauty of the 
two Miss Hornecks. 

The Panton-street puppets were destined to be a source of 
further amusement to the town, and of annoyance to the little 
autocrat of the stage. Foote, the Aristophanes of the English 
drama, who was always on the alert to turn every subject of 
popular excitement to account, seeing the success of the Fantoc- 
cini, gave out that he should produce a Primitive Puppet-show 
at the Haymarket, to be entitled TJie Handsome Chambermaid^ 
or Piety in Pattens: intended to burlesque the sentimental 
comedy which Grarrick still maintained at Drury-Lane. The 
idea of a play to be performed in a regular theatre by puppets, 
excited the curiosity and talk of the town. " Will your puppets 
be as large as life, Mr. Foote ?" demanded a lady of rank. " Oh, 
no, my lady ;" replied Foote, " not much larger than Garrick.'" 



DISSIPATION AND DEBTS. 293 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

Broken health. — Dissipation and debts. — The Irish widow. — Practical jokes. — 
Scrub. — A misquoted pun. — Malagrida. — Golds'.nith proved to be a fool.— 
Distressed ballad singers. — The Poet at Ranelagh. 

Goldsmith returned to town in the autumn (1772), with his 
health much disordered. His close fits of sedentary application, 
during which he in a manner tied himsel/ to the mast, had laid 
the seeds of a lurking malady in his system, and produced a 
severe illness in the course of the summer. Town life was not 
favorable to the health either of body or mind. He could not 
resist the siren voice of temptation, which, now that he had be 
come a notoriety, assailed him on every side. Accordingly we 
find him launching away in a career of social dissipation ; dining 
and supping out ; at clubs, at routs, at theatres ; he is a guest 
with Johnson at the Thrales, and an object of Mrs. Thrale's 
lively sallies ; he is a lion at Mrs. Vesey's and Mrs. Montagu's, 
where some of the high-bred blue-stockings pronounce him a 
" wild genius," and others, peradventure, a " wild Irishman." 
In the meantime his pecuniary difficulties are increasing upon 
him, conflicting with his proneness to pleasure and expense, and 
contributing by the harassment of his mind to the wear and tear 
of his constitution. His Animated Nature, though not finished, 
has been entirely paid for, and the money spent. The money ad- 



294 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



vanced by G-arrick on Newbery's note, still hangs over him as a 
debt. The tale on which Newbery had loaned from two to three 
hundred pounds previous to the excursion to Barton, has proved 
a failure. The bookseller is urgent for the settlement of his 
complicated account ; the perplexed author has nothing to offer 
him in liquidation but the copyright of the comedy which he has 
in his portfolio ; " Though to tell you the truth, Frank," said he, 
" there are great doubts of its success." The offer was accepted, 
and, like bargains wrung from Groldsmith in times of emergency, 
turned out a golden speculation to the bookseller. 

In this way Goldsmith went on " overrunning the constable," 
as he termed it ; spending every thing in advance ; working with 
an overtasked head and weary heart to pay for past pleasures and 
past extravagance, and at the same time incurring new debts, to 
perpetuate his struggles and darken his future prospects. While 
the excitement of society and the excitement of composition 
conspire to keep up a feverishness of the system, he has incurred 
an unfortunate habit of quacking himself with James's powders, 
a fashionable panacea of the day. 

A farce, produced this year by Garrick, and entitled The 
Irish Widoiv, perpetuates the memory of practical jokes played 
off a year or two previously upon the alleged vanity of poor, 
simple-hearted Goldsmith. He was one evening at the house of 
his friend Burke, when he was beset by a tenth muse, an Irish 
widow and authoress, just arrived from Ireland, full of brogue 
and blunders, and poetic fire and rantipole gentility. She was 
soliciting subscriptions for her poems ; and assailed Goldsmith 
for his patronage ; the great Goldsmith — her countryman, and of 
course her friend. She overpowered him with eulogiums on his 
own poems, and then read some of her own, with vehemence of 



PRACTICAL JOKES. 295 



tone and gesture, appealing continually to the great Goldsmith to 
know how he relished them. 

Poor Goldsmith did all that a kind-hearted and gallant gen- 
tleman could do in such a case ; he praised her poems as far as 
the stomach of his sense would permit : perhaps a little further ; 
he offered her his subscription, and it was not until she had re- 
tired with many parting compliments to the great Goldsmith, 
that he pronounced the poetry which had been inflicted on him 
execrable. The whole scene had been a hoax got up by Burke 
for the amusement of his company, and the Irish widow, so admi- 
rably performed, had been personated by a Mrs. Balfour, a lady 
of his connection, of great sprightliness and talent. 

We see nothing in the story to establish the alleged vanity of 
Goldsmith, but we think it tells rather to the disadvantage of 
Burke ; being unwarrantable under their relations of friendship, 
and a species of waggery quite beneath his genius. 

Croker, in his notes to Boswell, gives another of these practi- 
cal jokes perpetrated by Burke at the expense of Goldsmith's 
credulity. It was related to Croker by Colonel O'Moore, of 
Cloghan Castle, in Ireland, who was a party concerned. The 
Colonel and Burke, walking one day through Leicester Square 
on their way to Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with whom they were 
to dine, observed Goldsmith, who was likewise to be a guest, 
standing and regarding a crowd which was staring and shouting 
at some foreign ladies in the window of a hotel. " Observe 
Goldsmith," said Burke to O'Moore, "and mark what passes 
between us at Sir Joshua's." They passed on and reached 
there before him. Burke received Goldsmith with affected 
reserve and coldness: being pressed to explain the reason, 
" Really," said he, " I am ashamed to keep company with a per- 



296 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



son who could act as you have just done in the Square." Grold- 
smith protested he was ignorant of what was meant. " Why," 
said Burke, " did you not exclaim as you were looking up at 
those women, what stupid beasts the crowd must be for staring 
with such admiration at those painted Jeze\ds^ while a man of 
your talents passed by unnoticed ?" " Surely, surely, my dear 
friend," cried Groldsmith, with alarm, " surely I did not say so ?" 
" Nay," replied Burke, " if you had not said so, how should I 
have known it ?" " That's true," answered Goldsmith, " I am 
very sorry — it was very foolish : / do recollect that something of 
the kind passed through my mind, but I did not think I had 
uttered it." 

It is proper to observe that these jokes were played off by 
Burke before he had attained the full eminence of his social posi- 
tion, and that he may have felt privileged to take liberties with 
Groldsmith as his countryman and college associate. It is evident, 
however, that the peculiarities of the latter, and his guileless 
simplicity, made him a butt for the broad waggery of some of his 
associates ; while others more polished, though equally perfidious, 
were on the watch to give currency to his bulls and blunders. 

The Stratford jubilee, in honor of Shakspeare, where Boswell 
had made a fool of himself, was still in every one's mind. It was 
sportively suggested that a fete should be held at Litchfield in 
honor of Johnson and Grarrick, and that the Beaux Stratagem 
should be played by the members of the Literary Club. " Then," 
exclaimed Goldsmith, " I shall certainly play Scrub. I should 
like of all things to try my hand at that character." The un- 
wary speech, which any one else might have made without com- 
ment, has been thought worthy of record as whimsically charac- 
teristic. Beauclerc was extremely apt to circulate anecdotes at 



MALAGRIDA. 297 



his expense, founded perhaps on some trivial incident, but dressed 
up with the embellishments of his sarcastic brain. One relates 
to a venerable dish of peas, served up at Sir Joshua's table, which 
should have been green, but were any other color. A wag sug- 
gested to Goldsmith, in a whisper, that they should be sent to 
Hammersmith, as that was the way to turn-em-green (Turnham- 
Green). Goldsmith, delighted with the pun, endeavored to repeat 
it at Burke's table, but missed the point, " That is the way to 
'inake 'em green," said he. Nobody laughed. He perceived he 
was at fault. " I mean that is the road to turn 'em green." A 
dead pause and a stare ; " whereupon," adds Beauclerc, '• he 
started up disconcerted and abruptly left the table." This is 
evidently one of Beauclerc's caricatures. 

On another occasion the poet and Beauclerc were seated at 
the theatre next to Lord Shelburne, the minister, whom political 
writers thought proper to nickname Malagrida. " Do you know," 
said Goldsmith to his lordship, in the course of conversation, " that 
I never could conceive why they call you Malagrida, for Malagrida 
was a very good sort of man." This was too good a trip of the 
tongu|j|^fceauclerc to let pass : he serves it up in his next letter 
to Lofl^^narlemont, as a specimen of a mode of turning a 
thought the wrong way, peculiar to the poet ; he makes meriy 
over it with his witty and sarcastic compeer, Horace Walpole, 
who pronounces it " a picture of Goldsmith's whole life." Dr. 
Johnson alone, when he hears it bandied about as Goldsmith's 
last blunder, growls forth a friendly defence : " Sir." said he, " it 
was a mere blunder in emphasis. He meant to say, I wonder 
they should use Malagrida as a term of reproach." Poor Gold- 
smith ! On such points he was ever doomed to be misinter- 
preted. Rogers, the poet, meeting in times long subsequent with 

13* 



298 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



a survivor from those days, asked him what Groldsmith really was 
in conversation. The old conventional character was too deeply 
stamped in the memory of the veteran to be effaced. " Sir," 
replied the old wiseacre, " he was a fool. The right word never 
came to him. If you gave him back a bad shilling, he'd say, Why 
it's as good a shilling as ever was born. You know he ought to 
have said coined. Corned.^ sir, never entered his head. He was 
a fool.1 sir." 

We have so many anecdotes in which Goldsmith's simplicity 
is played upon, that it is quite a treat to meet with one in which 
he is represented playing upon the simplicity of others, especially 
when the victim of his joke is the " Great Cham" himself, whom 
all others are disposed to hold so much in awe. Goldsmith and 
Johnson were supping cosily together at a tavern in Dean-street, 
Soho, kept by Jack Roberts, a singer at Drury-lane, and a pro- 
tegee of Garrick's. Johnson delighted in these gastronomical 
tete-a-tfetes, and was expatiating in high good humor on a dish of 
rumps and kidneys, the veins of his forehead swelling with the 
ardor of mastication. '• These," said he, " are pi-etty little things; 
but a man must eat a great many of them before l^^HjUled." 
■" Aye ; but how many of them," asked Goldsmith, wm^fflFected 
simplicity, " would reach to the moon ?" " To the moon ! Ah, 
sir, that, I fear, exceeds your calculation." " Not at all, sir ; I 
think I could tell." "Pray, then, sir, let us hear." "Why, sir, 
one, if it were long enough .'" Johnson growled for a time at 
finding himself caught in such a trite schoolboy trap. " Well, 
sir," cried he at length, " I have deserved it. I should not have 
provoked so foolish an answer by so foolish a question." 

Among the many incidents related as illustrative of Gold- 
smith's vanity and envy is one which occurred one evening when 



THE BALLAD SINGERS. 299 



he was in a drawing-room with a party of ladies, and a ballad- 
singer under the window struck up his favorite song of Hally 
Salisbury. " How miserably this woman sings I" exclaimed he. 
" Pray, doctor," said the lady of the house, " could you do it 
better ?" " Yes, madam, and the company shall be judges." The 
company, of course, prepared to be entertained by an absurdity ; 
but their smiles were well nigh turned to tears, for he acquitted 
himself with a skill and pathos that drew universal applause. He 
had, in fact, a delicate ear for music, which had been jarred by 
the false notes of the ballad-singer ; and there were certain pa- 
thetic ballads, associated with recollections of his childhood, which 
were sure to touch the springs of his heart. We have another 
story of him, connected with ballad-singing, which is still more 
characteristic. He was one evening at the house of Sir William 
Chambers, in Berners-street, seated at a whist-table with Sir 
William, Lady Chambers, and Baretti, when all at once he threw 
down his cards, hurried out of the room and into the street. He 
returned in an instant, resumed his seat, and the game went on. 
Sir William, after a little hesitation, ventured to ask the cause 
of his retreat, fearing he had been overcome by the heat of the 
room. " Not at all," replied Goldsmith ; " but in truth I could not 
bear to hear that unfortunate woman in the street, half singing, half 
sobbing, for such tones could only arise from the extremity of 
distress ; her voice grated painfully on my ear and jarred my 
frame, so that I could not rest until I had sent her away." It 
was in fact a poor ballad-singer whose cracked voice had been 
heard by others of the party, but without having the same effect 
on their sensibilities. It was the reality of his fictitious scene in 
the story of the Man in Black ; wherein he describes a woman 
in rags, with one child in her arms and another on her back, 



300 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



attempting to sing ballads, but with such a mournful voice that 
it was difficult to determine whether she was singing or crying. 
" A wretch," he adds, " who, in the deepest distress, still aimed at 
good humor, was an object my friend was by no means capable 
of withstanding." The Man in Black gave the poor woman all 
that he had — a bundle of matches. Groldsmith, it is probable, sent 
his ballad-singer away rejoicing, with all the money in his pocket. 
Kanelagh was at that time greatly in vogue as a place of pub- 
lic entertainment. It was situated near Chelsea ; the principal 
room was a Rotunda of great dimensions, with an orchestra in 
the centre, and tiers of boxes all round. It was a place to which 
Johnson resorted occasionally. " I am a great friend to public 
amusements," said he, " for they keep people from vice."* Grold- 
smith was equally a friend to them, though perhaps not altogether 
on such moral grounds. He was particularly fond of masque- 
rades, which were then exceedingly popular, and got up at Rane- 
lagh with great expense and magnificence. Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
who had likewise a taste for such amusements, was sometimes 
his companion, at other times he went alone ; his peculiarities of 
person and manner would soon betray him, whatever might be 
his disguise, and he would be singled out by wags, acquainted 
with his foibles, and more successful than himself in maintaining 

* " Alas, sir !" said Johnson, speaking, when in another mood, of grand 
houses, fine gardens, and splendid places of public amusement ; " alas, sir ! 
these are only struggles for happiness. When I first entered Ranelagh it gave 
an expansion and gay sensation to my mind, such as I never experienced any- 
where else. But, as Xerxes wept v^hen he viewed his immense army, and con- 
sidered that not one of that great multitude would be alive a hundred years 
afterwards, so it went to my heart to consider that there was not one in all 
that brilliant circle that was not afi-aid to go home and think." 



MASQUERADING. 301 



their incognito, as a capital subject to be played upon. Some, 
pretending not to know him, would decry his writings, and praise 
those of his contemporaries ; others would laud his verses to the 
skies, but purposely misquote and burlesque them ; others would 
annoy him with parodies ; while one young lady, whom he was 
teasing, as he supposed, with great success and infinite humor, 
silenced his rather boisterous laughter by quoting his own line 
about "the loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind " On one 
occasion he was absolutely driven out of the house by the persever- 
ing jokes of a wag, whose complete disguise gave him no means 
of retaliation. 

His name appearing in the newspapers among the distin- 
guished persons present at one of these amusements, his old 
enemy, Kenrick, immediately addressed to him a copy of anony- 
mous verses, to the following purport. 

To Dr. Goldsmith ; on seeing his name in the list of mum- 
mers at the late masquerade : 

" How widely different. Goldsmith, are the ways 
Of Doctors now, and those of ancient days ! 
Theirs taught the truth in academic shades. 
Ours in lewd hops and midnight masquerades. 
So changed the times ! say, philosophic sage, 
Whose genius suits so well this tasteful age. 
Is the Pantheon, late a sink obscene. 
Become the fountain of chaste Hippocrene 1 
Or do thy moral numbers quaintly flow. 
Inspired by th' Aganippe of Soho ? 
Do wisdom's sons gorge cates and vermicelli, 
Like beastly Bickerstaffe or bothering Kelly '? 
Or art thou tired of th' undeserved applause. 
Bestowed on bards affecting Virtue's cause ? . 



302 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Is this the good that makes the hamble vain, 
The good philosophy should not disdain ? 
If so, let pride dissemble all it can, 
A modern sage is still much less than man." 

Groldsmith was keenly sensitive to attacks of the kind, and 
meeting Kenrick at the Chapter Coifee-house, called him to sharp 
account for taking such a liberty with his name, and calling his 
morals in question, merely on account of his being seen at a 
place of general resort and amusement. Kenrick shuffled and 
sneaked, protesting that he meant nothing derogatory to his 
private character. Goldsmith let him know, however, that he 
was aware of his having more than once indulged in attacks of 
this dastard kind, and intimated that another such outrage would 
be followed by personal chastisement. 

Kenrick having played the craven in his presence, avenged 
himself as soon as he was gone by complaining of his having 
made a wanton attack upon him, and by making coarse comments 
upon his writings, conversation, and person. 

The scurrilous satire of Kenrick, however unmerited, may 
have checked Goldsmith's taste for masquerades. Sir Joshua 
Reynolds calling on the poet one morning, found him walking 
about his room in somewhat of a reverie, kicking a bundle of 
clothes before him like a foot-ball. It proved to be an expen- 
sive masquerade dress, which he said he had been fool enough to 
purchase, and as there was no other way of getting the worth of 
his money, he was trying to take it out in exercise. 



INVITATION TO CHRISTMAS. 303 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Invitation to Christmas. — The spring-velvet coat. — The haymaking vt^ig. — 
The mischances of loo. — The fair culprit. — A dance with the Jessamy 
Bride. 

From the feverish dissipations of town, Goldsmith is summoned 
away to partake of the genial dissipations of the country. In 
the month of December, a letter from Mrs. Bunbury invites him 
down to Burton, to pass the Christmas holidays. The letter is 
written in the usual playful vein which marks his intercourse 
with this charming family. He is to come in his " smart spring- 
velvet coat," to bring a new wig to dance with the haymakers in, 
and above all, to follow the advice of herself and her sister, (the 
Jessamy Bride,) in playing loo. This letter, which plays so 
archly, yet kindly, with some of poor Goldsmith's peculiarities, 
and bespeaks such real ladylike regard for him, requires a word 
or two of annotation. The spring-velvet suit alluded to, appears 
to have been a gallant adornment, (somewhat in the style of the 
famous bloom-colored coat,) in which Goldsmith had figured in 
the preceding month of May — the season of blossoms — ^for, on the 
21st of that month, we find the following entry in the chronicle of 
Mr. William Filby, tailor : To your hltoe velvet suit, £21 10s. 9d. 
Also, about the same time, a suit of livery and a crimson collar 



304 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



for the serving man. Again we hold the Jessamy Bride respon- 
sible for this gorgeous splendor of wardrobe. 

The new wig no doubt is a bag-wig and solitaire, still highly 
the mode, and in which Goldsmith is represented as figuring 
when in full dress, equipped with his sword. 

As to the dancing with the haymakers, we presume it alludes 
to some gambol of the poet, in the course of his former visit to 
Barton ; when he ranged the fields and lawns a chartered liber- 
tine, and tumbled into the fish-ponds. 

As to the suggestions about loo, they are in sportive allusion 
to the doctor's mode of playing that game in their merry evening 
parties ; afi"ecting the desperate gambler and easy dupe ; running 
counter to all rule ; making extravagant ventures ; reproaching 
all others with cowardice ; dashing at all hazards at the pool, and 
getting himself completely loo'd, to the great amusement of the 
companj^. The drift of the fair sisters' advice was most probably 
to tempt him on, and then leave him in the lurch. 

With these comments we subjoin Groldsmith's reply to Mrs. 
Bunbury, a fine piece of oflF-hand, humorous writing, which has 
but in late years been given to the public, and which throws a 
familiar light on the social circle at Barton. 

" Madam, — I read your . letter with all that allowance which 
critical candor could require, but after all find so much to object 
to, and so much to raise my indignation, that I cannot help giv- 
ing it a serious answer. — I am not so ignorant, madam, as not 
to see there are many sarcasms contained in it, and solecisms 
also. (Solecism is a word that comes from the town of Soleis in 
Attica, among the Greeks, built by Solon, and applied as we use 
the word Kidderminster for curtains from a town also of that 
name — but this is learning you have no taste for !) — I say, 



THE SPRING-VELVET COAT. 305 



madam, there are many sarcasms in it, and solecisms also. But 
not to seem an ill-natured critic, I'll take leave to quote your 
own words, and give you my remarks upon them as they occur. 
You begin as follows : 

' I hope, my good Doctor, you soon will be here. 
And your spring-velvet coat very smart will appear. 
To open our ball the first day of the year.' 

" Pray, madam, where did you ever find the epithet ' good,' 
applied to the title of doctor ? Had you called me ' learned doc- 
tor ,' or ' grave doctor,' or ' noble doctor,' it might be allowable, 
because they belong to the profession. But, not to cavil at tri- 
fles, you talk of my ' spring-velvet coat,' and advise me to wear 
it the first day in the year, that is, in the middle of winter ! — a 
spring-velvet coat in the middle of winter ! ! ! That would be 
a solecism indeed ! and yet to increase the inconsistence, in 
another part of your letter you call me a beau. Now, on one 
side or other, you must be wrong. If I am a beau, I can never 
think of wearing a spring-velvet in winter : and if I am not a 
beau, why then, that explains itself But let me go on to your 
two next strange lines : 

' And bring with you a wig, that is modish and gay. 
To dance with the girls that are makers of hay.' 

" The absurdity of making hay at Christmas you yourself 
seem sensible of : you say your sister will laugh ; and so indeed 
she well may ! The Latins have an expression for a contemp- 
tuous kind of laughter, ' naso contemnere adunco ;' that is, to 
laugh with a crooked nose. She may laugh at you in the man- 



306 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



ner of the ancients if she thinks fit. But now I come to the 
most extraordinary of all extraordinary propositions, which is, 
to take your and your sister's advice in playing at loo. The 
presumption of the oflfer raises my indignation beyond the 
bounds of prose ; it inspires me at once with verse and resent- 
ment. I take advice ! and from whom ? You shall hear. 

" First let me suppose, what may shortly be true, 
The company set, and the word to be Loo : 
All smirking, and pleasant, and big with adventure. 
And ogling the stake which is fix'd in the centre. 
Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn 
At never once finding a visit from Pam. 
I lay down my stake, apparently cool. 
While the harpies about me all pocket the pool. 
I fret in my gizzard, yet, cautious and sly, 
I wish all my friends may be bolder than 1 : 
Yet still they sit snug, not a creature will aim 
By losing their money to venture at fame. 
'Tis in vain that at niggardly caution I scold, 
'Tis in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold : 
All play their own way, and they think me an ass, . . . 
' What does Mrs. Bunbury ?' . . ' I, Sir ? I pass.' 
' Pray what does Miss Horneck ? take courage, come do/ . . 
' Who, I ? let me see, sir, why I must pass too.' 
Mr. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil. 
To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil. 
Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on, 
'Till, made by my losses as bold as a lion, 
I venture at all, while my avarice regards 
The whole pool as my own. . . ' Come give me five cards.' 
* Well done !' cry the ladies ; ' Ah, Doctor, that's good ! 
The pool's very rich, . . ah ! the Doctor is loo'd !' 



THE FAIR CULPRITS. 307 



Thus foil'd in my courage, on all sides perplext, 
I ask for advice from the lady that's next : 

* Pray, ma'am, be so good as to give your advice ; 
Don't you think the best way is to venture for"! twice V 
' I advise,' cries the lady, ' to try it, I own. . . 

* Ah ! the doctor is loo'd ! Come, Doctor, put down.' 
Thus, playing, and playing, I still grow more eager. 
And so bold, and so bold, I'm at last a bold beggar. 
Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you're skill'd in, 
Whether crimes such as yours should not come before Fielding : 
For giving advice that is not worth a straw. 

May well be call'd picking of pockets in law ; 

And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye. 

Is, by quinto Elizabeth, Death without Clergy. 

What justice, when both to the Old Baily brought ! 

By the gods, I'll enjoy it, tho' 'tis but in thought! 

Both are plac'd at the bar, with all proper decorum, 

With bunches of fennel, and nosegays before 'em ; 

Both cover their faces with mobs and all that. 

But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat. 

When uncover'd, a buzz of inquiry runs round, 

' Pray what are their crimes?' . . ' They've been pilfering found.' 

' But, pray, who have they pilfer'd ?' . . ' A doctor, I hear.' 

' What, yon solemn- faced, odd-looking man that stands near ?' 

' The same.' . . ' What a pity ! how does it surprise one. 

Two handsomer culprits I never set eyes on !' 

Then their friends all come round me with cringing and leering. 

To melt me to pity, and soften my swearing. 

First Sir Charles advances with phrases well-strung, 

* Consider, dear Doctor, the girls are but young.' 
'The younger the worse,' I return him again, 

' It shows that their habits are all dyed in grain.' 

' But then they're so handsome, one's bosom it grieves.' 

' What signifies handsome, when people are thieves?' 



308 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



* But where is your justice ? their cases are hard.' 
' What signifies justice 1 I want the reward. 

" ' There's the parish of Edmonton offers forty pounds ; 
there's the parish of St. Leonard Shoreditch offers forty pounds ; 
there's the parish of Tyburn, from the Hog-in-the-pound to St. 
Griles's watch-house, offers forty pounds, — I shall have all that if 
I convict them !' — 

" ' But consider their case, . . it may yet be your own ! 

And see how they kneel ! Is your heart made of stone V 

This moves : . . so at last I agree to relent. 

For ten pounds in hand, and ten pounds to be spent.' 

" I challenge you all to answer this : I tell you, you cannot. 
It cuts deep. But now for the rest of the letter : and next — 
but I want room — so I believe I shall battle the rest out at 
Barton some day next week. — I don't value you all ! 

" 0. a." 

We regret that we have no record of this Christmas visit to 
Barton ; that the poet had no Boswell to follow at his heels, and 
take note of all his sayings and doings. We can only picture 
him in our minds, casting off all care ; enacting the lord of mis- 
rule ; presiding at the Christmas revels ; providing all kinds of 
merriment ; keeping the card-table in an uproar, and finally open- 
ing the ball on the first day of the year in his spring-velvet suit, 
with the Jessamy Bride for a partner. 



THEATRICAL DELAYS. 309 



CHAPTER XXXYII. 

Theatrical delays. — Negotiations with Colman. — Letter to Garrick. — Croaking 
of the manager. — Naming of the play. — She Stoops to Conquer. — Foote's 
Primitive Puppetshow, Piety on Pattens. — First performance of the 
comedy. — Agitation of the author. — Success. — Colman squibbed out of 
town. 

The gay life depicted in the two last chapters, while it kept 
Goldsmith in a state of continual excitement, aggravated the 
malady which was impairing his constitution ; yet his increasing 
perplexities in money matters drove him to the dissipation of 
society as a relief from solitary care. The delays of the theatre 
added to those perplexities. He had long since finished his new 
comedy, yet the year 1772 passed away without his being able to 
get it on the stage. No one, uninitated in the interior of a 
theatre, that little world of traps and trickery, can have any idea 
of the obstacles and perplexities multiplied in the way of the 
most eminent and successful author by the mismanagement of 
managers, the jealousies and intrigues of rival authors, and the 
fantastic and impertinent caprices of actors. A long and baffling 
negotiation was carried on between Goldsmith and Colman, the 
manager of Covent-Garden ; who retained the play in his hands 
until the middle of January, (1773.) without coming to a deci- 
sion. The theatrical season was rapidly passing away, and Gold- 



310 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



smith's pecuniary difficulties were augmenting and pressing on 
him. We may judge of his anxiety by the following letter : 

" To George Colman^ Esq. 
'' Dear Sm, 

" I entreat you'll relieve me from that state of suspense in 
which I have been kept for a long time. Whatever objections 
you have made or shall make to my play, I will endeavor to re- 
move and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges 
either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a 
former occasion, when my other play was before Mr. Grarrick, he 
offered to bring me before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused 
the proposal with indignation : I hope I shall not experience as 
harsh treatment from you as from him. I have, as you know, a 
large sum of money to make up shortly ; by accepting my play, 
I can readily satisfy my creditor that way ; at any rate, I must 
look about to some certainty to be prepared. For Grod's sake 
take the play, and let us make the best of it, and let me have 
the same measure, at least, which you have given as bad plays as 
mine. 

" I am your friend and servant, 

" Oliver G-oldsmith." 

Colman returned the manuscript with the blank sides of the 
leaves scored with disparaging comments, and suggested altera- 
tions, but with the intimation that the faith of the theatre should 
be kept, and the play acted notwithstanding. Goldsmith submit- 
ted the criticisms to some of his friends, who pronounced them 
trivial, unfair, and contemptible, and intimated that Colman, 
being a dramatic writer himself, might be actuated by jealousy. 



NEGOTIATIONS WITH COLMAN. 311 



The play was then sent, with Colman's comments written on it, 
to Grarrick ; but he had scarce sent it when Johnson interfered, 
represented the evil that might result from an apparent rejection 
of it by Covent-Garden, and undertook to go forthwith to Colman, 
and have a talk with him on the subject. Goldsmith, therefore, 
penned the following note to Garrick : 

" Dear Sir, 

" I ask many pardons for the trouble I gave you yesterday. 
Upon more mature deliberation, and the advice of a sensible 
friend, I began to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you 
the odium of confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore 
request you will send my play back by my servant ; for having 
been assured of having it acted at the other house, though I con- 
fess yours in evei'y respect more to my wish, yet it would be folly 
in me to forego an advantage which lies in my power of appeal- 
ing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the town. I 
entreat, if not too late, you will keep this affair a secret for some 
time. 

" I am, dear Sir, your very humble servant, 

" Oliver Goldsmith." 

The negotiation of Johnson with the manager of Covent- 
Garden was eflfective. " Colman," he says, " was prevailed on at 
last, by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force," to bring forward 
the comedy. Still the manager was ungenerous ; or, at least, 
indiscreet enough to express his opinion, that it would not reach 
a second representation. The plot, he said, was bad, and the in- 
terest not sustained ; " it dwindled, and dwindled, and at last 
went out like the snufi" of a candle." The effect of his croaking 



312 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



was soon apparent within the walls of the theatre. Two of the 
most popular actors, Woodward and Gentleman Smith, to whom 
the parts of Tony Lumpkin and Young Marlow were assigned, 
refused to act them ; one of them alleging, in excuse, the evil 
predictions of the manager. Groldsmith was advised to postpone 
the performance of his play until he could get these important 
parts well supplied. " No," said he, " I would sooner that my 
play were damned by had players than merely saved by good 
acting." 

Quick was substituted for Woodward in Tony Lumpkin, and 
Lee Lewis, the harlequin of the theatre, for Grentleman Smith in 
Young Marlow ; and both did justice to their parts. 

Grreat interest was taken by Groldsmith's friends in the suc- 
cess of his piece. The rehearsals were attended by -Johnson, 
Cradoek, Murphy, Reynolds and his sister, and the whole Hor- 
neck connection, including, of course, the Jessmny Bride^ whose 
presence may have contributed to flutter the anxious heart of the 
author. The rehearsals went off with great applause, but that 
Colman attributed to the partiality of friends. He continued to 
croak, and refused to risk any expense in new scenery or dresses 
on a play which he was sure would prove a failure. 

The time was at hand for the first representation, and as yet 
the comedy was without a title. " We are all in labor for a name 
for Goldy's play," said Johnson, who, as usual, took a kind of 
fatherly protecting interest in poor Goldsmith's affairs. " The 
Old House a New Inn" was thought of for a time, but still did 
not please. Sir Joshua Reynolds proposed " The Belle's Strata- 
gem," an elegant title, but not considered applicable, the perplex- 
ities of the comedy being produced by the mistake of the hero, 
not the stratagem of the heroine. The name was afterwards 



THE PRIMITIVE PUPPETSHOW. 313 



adopted by Mrs. Cowley for one of her comedies. " The Mistakes 
of a Night" was the title at length fixed upon, to which Groldsmith 
prefixed the words, " She Stoops to Conquer." 

The evil bodings of Colman still continued : they were even 
communicated in the box office to the servant of the Duke of» 
Grloucester, who was sent to engage a box. Never did the play 
of a popular writer struggle into existence through more dif- 
ficulties. 

In the mean time Foote's Primitive Puppetshow, entitled the 
Ha7ulsonie Housemaid, or Piety on Pattens, had been brought 
out at the Haymarket on the 15th of February. All the world, 
fashionable and unfashionable, had crowded to the theatre. The 
street was thronged with equipages — the doors were stormed by 
the mob. The burlesque was completely successful, and senti- 
mental comedy received its quietus. Even Garrick, who had re- 
cently befriended it, now gave it a kick, as he saw it going down 
hill, and sent Goldsmith a humorous prologue to help his comedy 
of the opposite school. Garrick and Goldsmith, however, were 
now on very cordial terms, to which the social meetings in the 
circle of the Hornecks and Bunburys may have contributed. 

On the 15th of March the new comedy was to be performed. 
Those who had stood up for its merits, and been irritated and 
disgusted by the treatment it had received from the manager, 
determined to muster their forces, and aid in giving it a good 
launch upon the town. The particulars of this confederation, and 
of its triumphant success, are amusingly told by Cumberland in 
his memoirs. 

" We were not over sanguine of success, but perfectly deter- 
mined to struggle hard for our author. We accordingly assem- 
bled our strength at the Shakspeare Tavern, in a considerable 

14 



314 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



body, for an early dinner, where Samuel Johnson took the chair 
at the head of a long table, and was the life and soul of the corps: 
the poet took post silently by his side, with the Burkes, Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, Fitzherbert, Caleb Whitefoord, and a phalanx 
of North British, predetermined applauders, under the banner of 
Major Mills, all good men and true. Our illustrious president 
was in inimitable glee ; and poor Goldsmith that day took all 
his raillery as patiently and complacently as my friend Boswell 
would have done any day or every day of his life. In the mean 
time, we did not forget our duty ; and though we had a better 
comedy going, in which Johnson was chief actor, we betook 
ourselves in good time to our separate and allotted posts, and 
waited the awful drawing up of the curtain. As our stations 
were preconcerted, so were our signals for plaudits arranged 
and determined upon in a manner that gave every one his cue 
where to look for them, and how to follow them up. 

" We had among us a very worthy and efficient member, long 
since lost to his friends and the world at large, Adam Drum- 
mond, of amiable memory, who was gifted by nature with the 
most sonorous, and at the same time, the most contagious laugh 
that ever echoed from the human lungs. The neighing of the 
horse of the son of Hystaspes was a whisper to it ; the whole 
thunder of the theatre could not drown it. This kind and in- 
genious friend fairly forewarned us that he knew no more when 
to give his fire than the cannon did that was planted on a bat- 
tery. He desired, therefore, to have a flapper at his elbow, and 
I had the honor to be deputed to that office. I planted him 
in an upper box, pretty nearly over the stage, in full view of 
the pit and galleries, and perfectly well situated to give the echo 
all its play through the hollows and recesses of the theatre. Tha 



A LAUGHING FUGLEMAN. 315 



success of our manoeuvre was complete. All eyes were upon 
Johnson, who sat in a front row of a side box ; and when he 
laughed, everybody thought themselves warranted to roar. la 
the mean time, my friend followed signals with a rattle so irre- 
sistibly comic that, when he had repeated it several times, the 
attention of the spectators was so engrossed by his person and 
performances, that the progress of the play seemed likely to be- 
come a secondary object, and I found it prudent to insinuate to 
him that he might halt his music without any prejudice to the 
author ; but alas ! it was now too late to rein him in ; he had 
laughed upon my signal where he found no joke, and now, un- 
luckily, he fancied that ho found a joke in almost every thing 
that was said ; so that nothing in nature could be more mal-apro- 
pos than some of his bursts every now and then were. These 
were dangerous moments, for the pit began to take umbrage ; but 
we carried our point through, and triumphed not only over Col- 
man's judgment, but our own." 

Much of this statement has been condemned as exaggerated 
or discolored. Cumberland's memoirs have generally been cha- 
racterized as partaking of romance, and in the present instance 
he had particular motives for tampering with the truth. He was 
a dramatic writer himself, jealous of the success of a rival, and 
anxious to have it attributed to the private management of friends. 
According to various accounts, public and private, such manage- 
ment was unnecessary, for the piece was " received throughout 
with the greatest acclamations." 

Goldsmith, in the present instance, had not dared, as on a 
former occasion, to be present at the first performance. He had 
been so overcome by his apprehensions that, at the preparatory 
dinner, he could hardly utter a word, and was so choked that he 



316 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



could not swallow a mouthful. When his friends trooped to the 
theatre, he stole away to St. James's Park : there he was found 
by a friend, between seven and eight o'clock, wandering up and 
down the Mall like a troubled spirit. With difficulty he was per- 
suaded to go to the theatre, where his presence might be impor- 
tant should any alteration be necessary. He arrived at the open- 
ing of the fifth act, and made his way behind the scenes. Just 
as he entered there was a slight hiss at the improbability of Tony 
Lumpkin's trick on his mother, in persuading her she was forty 
miles oflF, on Crackskull Common, though she had been trundled 
about on her own grounds. " What's that ? what's that ! " cried 
Goldsmith to the manager, in great agitation. " Pshaw ! Doctor," 
replied Colman, sarcastically, " don't be frightened at a squib, 
when we've been sitting these two hours on a barrel of gunpow- 
der ! " Though of a most forgiving nature, Goldsmith did not 
easily forget this ungracious and ill-timed sally. 

If Colman was indeed actuated by the paltry motives ascribed 
to him in his treatment of this play, he was most amply punished 
by its success, and by the taunts, epigrams, and censures levelled 
at him through the press, in which his false prophecies were 
jeered at ; his critical judgment called in question ; and he was 
openly taxed with literary jealousy. So galling and unremitting 
was the fire, that he at length wrote to Goldsmith, entreating him 
" to take him off the rack of the newspapers ;" in the mean time, 
to escape the laugh that was raised about him in the theatrical 
world of London, he took refuge in Bath during the triumphant 
career of the comedy. 

The following is one of the many squibs which assailed the 
ears of the manager : 



SQUIBS AND CRACKERS. 317 



To George Caiman, Esq., 

ON THE SUCCESS OF DR. GOLPSMITH's NEW COMEDY. 

" Come, Coley, doff those mourning weeds, 
Nor thus with jokes be flamm'd ; 
Tho' Goldsmith's present play succeeds. 
His next may still be damn'd. 

As this has 'scaped without a fall. 

To sink his next prepare ; 
New actors hire from Wapping Wall, 

And dresses from Rag Fair. 

For scenes let tatter'd blankets fly. 

The prologue Kelly write ; 
Then swear again the piece must die 

Before the author's night. 

Should these tricks fail, the lucky elf. 

To bring to lasting shame. 
E'en write the best you can yourself. 

And print it in his name." 

The solitary hiss, which had startled Goldsmith, was ascribed 
by some of the newspaper scribblers to Cumberland himself, who 
was " manifestly miserable " at the delight of the audience, or to 
Ossian Macpherson, who was hostile to the whole Johnson clique, 
or to Goldsmith's dramatic rival, Kelly. The following is one of 
the epigrams which appeared : 

" At Dr. Goldsmith's merry play, 
All the spectators laugh, they say ; 
The assertion, sir, I must deny. 
For Cumberland and Kelly cry. 

Bide, si sapis," 



318 OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 



Another, addressed to Groldsmith, alludes to Kelly's early ap- 
prenticeship to stay-making : 

" If Kelly finds fault with the shape of your muse, 
And thinks that too loosely it plays. 
He surely, dear Doctor, will never refuse 
To make it a new Pair of Stays !" 

Cradock had returned to the country before the production 
of the play ; the following letter, written just after the perform- 
ance, gives an additional picture of the thorns which beset an 
author in the path of theatrical literature : 

«' My Dear Sir, 

" The play has met with a success much beyond your expecta- 
tions or mine. I thank you sincerely for your epilogue, which, 
however, could not be used, but with your permission shall be 
printed. The story in short is this. Murphy sent me rather 
the outline of an epilogue than an epilogue, which was to be sung 
by Miss Catley, and which she approved ; Mrs. Bulkley hearing 
this, insisted on throwing up her part " [Miss Hardcastlc) " un- 
less, according to the custom of the theatre, she were permitted 
to speak the epilogue. In this embarrassment I thought of 
making a quarrelling epilogue between Catley and her, debating 
icho should speak the epilogue ; but then Mrs. Catley refused 
after I had taken the trouble of drawing it out. I was then at 
a loss indeed ; an epilogue was to be made, and for none but Mrs. 
Bulkley. I made one, and Colman thought it too bad to be 
spoken ; I was obliged, therefore, to try a fourth time, and I 
made a very mawkish thing, as you'll shortly see. Such is the 
history of my stage adventures, and which I have at last done 



CRITICAL OPINIONS. 319 



with. I cannot help saying, that I am very sick of the stage ; 
and though I believe I shall get three tolerable benefits, yet I 
shall, on the whole, be a loser, even in a pecuniary light ; my 
ease and comfort I certainly lost while it was in agitation. 

" I am, my dear Cradock, your obliged and obedient servant, 

" Oliver Goldsmith. 

" P. S. Present my most humble respects to Mrs. Cradock." 

Johnson, who had taken such a conspicuous part in promoting 
the interests of poor " Goldy," was triumphant at the success of 
the piece. " I know of no comedy for many years," said he, 
tfthat has so much exhilarated an audience; that has answer- 
ed so much the great end of comedy — making an audience 
merry." 

Goldsmith was happy, also, in gleaning applause from less 
authoritative sources. Northcote, the painter, then a youthful 
pupil of Sir Joshua Reynolds ; and Ralph, Sir Joshua's confiden- 
tial man, had taken their stations in the gallery to lead the ap- 
plause in that quarter. Goldsmith asked Northcote's opinion of 
the play. The youth modestly declared he could not presume to 
judge in such matters. " Did it make you laugh ?" " Oh, ex- 
ceedingly !" " That is all I require," replied Goldsmith ; and 
rewarded him for his criticism by box-tickets for his first benefit 
night. 

The comedy was immediately put to press, and dedicated to 
Johnson in the following grateful and affectionate terms : 

" In inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not mean 
so much to compliment you as myself It may do me some 
honor to inform the public, that I have lived many years in inti- 
macy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind also to 



320 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



inform them, that the greatest wit may be found in a character, 
without impairing the most unaifected piety." 

The copyright was transferred to Mr. Newbery, according to 
agreement, whose profits on the sale of the work far exceeded the 
debts for which the author in his perplexities had pre-engaged it. 
The sum which accrued to Goldsmith from his benefit nights, 
afforded but a slight palliation of his pecuniary difl&culties. His 
friends, while they exulted in his success, little knew of his con- 
tinually increasing embarrassments, and of the anxiety of mind 
which kept tasking his pen while it impaired the ease and free- 
dom of spirit necessary to felicitous composition. 



A NEWSPAPER ATTACK. 321 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

A newspaper attack. — The Evans affray. — Johnson's comment. 

The triumphant success of She Stoops to Conquer brought forth, 
of course, those carpings and cavillings of underling scribblers, 
which are the thorns and briers in the path of successful authors. 
Goldsmith, though easily nettled by attacks of the kind, was at 
present too well satisfied with the reception of his comedy to heed 
them ; but the following anonymous letter, which appeared in a 
public paper, was not to be taken with equal equanimity : 

" For the London Packet. 

" TO DR. GOLDSMITH. 

'• Vous vous noyez par vaniti. 

" Sir, — The happy knack which you have learned of puffing 

your own compositions, provokes me to come forth. You have 

not been the editor of newspapers and magazines not to discover 

the trick of literary humbug ; but the gauze is so thin that the 

very foolish part of the world see through it, and discover the 

doctor's monkey face and cloven foot Your poetic vanity is as 

unpardonable as your personal. Would man believe it, and will 

woman bear it, to be told that for hours the great Groldsmith will 

14* 



322 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



stand surveying his grotesque orang-outang's figure in a pier- 
glass 2 Was but the lovely H — k as much enamored, you would 
not sigh, my gentle swain, in vain. But your vanity is prepos- 
terous. How will this same bard of Bedlam ring the changes in 
the praise of Goldy ! But what has he to be either proud or vain 
of? 'The Traveller' is a flimsy poem, built upon false princi- 
ples — principles diametrically opposite to liberty. What is ' The 
Grood-natured Man' but a poor, water-gruel dramatic dose ? What 
is ' The Deserted Village' but a pretty poem of easy numbers, 
without fancy, dignity, genius, or fire ? And, pray, what may be 
the last speaking pantomime, so praised by the doctor himself, 
but an incoherent piece of stuff, the figure of a woman with a 
fish's tail, without plot, incident, or intrigue ? We are made to 
laugh at stale, dull jokes, wherein we mistake pleasantry for vi^it, 
and grimace for humor ; wherein every scene is unnatural and 
inconsistent with the rules, the laws of nature and of the 
drama ; viz., two gentlemen come to a man of fortune's house, 
eat, drink, &c., and take it for an inn. The one is intended as 
a lover for the daughter ; he talks with her for some hours ; 
and, when he sees her again in a different dress, he treats her 
as a bar-girl, and swears she squinted. He abuses the master 
of the house, and threatens to kick him out of his own doors. 
The squire, whom we are told is to be a fool, proves to be the 
most sensible being of the piece ; and he makes out a whole act 
by bidding his mother lie close behind a bush, persuading her 
that his father, her own husband, is a highwayman, and that he 
has come to cut their throats ; and, to give his cousin an oppor- 
tunity to go off', he drives his mother over hedges, ditches, and 
through ponds. There is not, sweet, sucking Johnson, a natural 
stroke in the whole play but the young fellow's giving the stolen 



^> 



THE EVANS AFFRAY. 323 



jewels to the mother, supposing her to be the landlady. That 
Mr. Colman did no justice to this piece, I honestly allow ; that 
he told all his friends it would be damned, I positively aver ; and, 
from such ungenerous insinuations, without a dramatic merit, it 
rose to public notice, and it is now the ton to go and see it, though 
I never saw a person that either liked it or approved it, any more 
than the absurd plot of Home's tragedy of ' Alonzo.' Mr. Gold- 
smith, correct your arrogance, reduce your vanity, and endeavor 
to believe, as a man, you are of the plainest sort ; and as an 
author, but a mortal piece of mediocrity. 



" Brise le miroir infidfele 
Qui vous cache la v^rit^. 



"Tom Tickle." 



It would be difficult to devise a letter more calculated to wound 
the peculiar sensibilities of Goldsmith. The attacks upon him as 
an author, though annoying enough, he could have tolerated ; but 
then the allusion to his " grotesque" person, to his studious at- 
tempts to adorn it ; and above all, to his being an unsuccessful ad- 
mirer of the lovely H — k (the Jessamy Bride), struck rudely upon 
the most sensitive part of his highly sensitive nature. The para- 
graph, it is said, was first pointed out to him by an officious friend, 
an Irishman, who told him he was bound in honor to resent it ; but 
he needed no such prompting. He was in a high state of excite- 
ment and indignation, and accompanied by his friend, who is said 
to have been a Captain Higgins, of the marines, he repaired to 
Paternoster-row, to the shop of Evans, the publisher, whom he 
supposed to be the editor of the paper. Evans was summoned by 
his shopman from an adjoining room. Goldsmith announced his 



324 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



name. " I have called," added he, " in consequence of a scur- 
rilous attack made upon me, and an unwarrantable liberty taken 
with the name of a young lady. As for myself, I care little ; but 
her name must not be sported with." 

Evans professed utter ignorance of the matter, and said he 
would speak to the editor. He stooped to examine a file of the 
paper, in search of the offensive article ; whereupon Goldsmith's 
friend gave him a signal, that now was a favorable moment for 
the exercise of his cane. The hint was taken as quick as given, 
and the cane was vigorously applied to the back of the stooping 
publisher. The latter rallied in an instant, and, being a stout, 
high-blooded Welshman, returned the blows with interest. A 
lamp hanging overhead was broken, and sent down a shower of 
oil upon the combatants ; but the battle raged with unceasing 
fury. The shopman ran off for a constable ; but Dr. Kenrick, 
who happened to be in the adjacent room, sallied forth, interfered 
between the combatants, and put an end to the affray. He con- 
ducted Groldsmith to a coach, in exceedingly battered and tat- 
tered plight, and accompanied him home, soothing him with much 
mock commiseration, though he was generally suspected, and on 
good grounds, to be the author of the libel. 

Evans immediately instituted a suit against Goldsmith for 
an assault, but was ultimately prevailed upon to compromise the 
matter, the poet contributing fifty pounds to the Welsh charity. 

Newspapers made themselves, as may well be supposed, ex- 
ceedingly merry with the combat. Some censured him severely 
for invading the sanctity of a man's own house ; others accused 
him of having, in his former capacity of editor of a magazine, been 
guilty of the very offences that he now resented in others. This 
drew from him the following vindication : 



THE VINDICATION. 325 



" To tJie Public. 



" Lest it should be supposed that I have been willing to cor- 
rect in others an abuse of which I have been guilty myself, I beg 
leave to declare, that, in all my life, I never wrote or dictated a 
single paragraph, letter, or essay in a newspaper, except a few 
moral essays under the character of a Chinese, about ten years 
ago, in the Ledger, and a letter, to which I signed my name, in 
the St. James's Chronicle. If the liberty of the press, therefore, 
has been abused, I have had no hand in it. 

" I have always considered the press as the protector of our 
freedom, as a watchful guardian, capable of uniting the weak 
against the encroachments of power. What concerns the public 
most properly admits of a public discussion. But, of late, the 
press has turned from defending public interest to making in- 
roads upon private life ; from combating the strong to overwhelm- 
ing the feeble. No condition is now too obscure for its abuse, 
and the protector has become the tyrant of the people. In this 
manner the freedom of the press is beginning to sow the seeds of 
its own dissolution ; the great must oppose it from principle, and 
the weak from fear ; till at last every rank of mankind shall be 
found to give up its benefits, content with security from insults. 

" How to put a stop to this licentiousness, by which all are 
indiscriminately abused, and by which vice consequently escapes 
in the general censure, I am unable to tell ; all I could wish is, 
that, as the law gives us no protection against the injury, so it 
should give calumniators no shelter after having provoked cor- 
rection. The insults which we receive before the public, by being 
more open, are the more distressing ; by treating them with silent 
contempt we do not pay a sufficient deference to the opinion of 



326 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



the world. By recurring to legal redress we too often expose the 
weakness of the law, which only serves to increase our mortifica- 
tion by failing to relieve us. In short, every man should singly 
consider himself as the guardian of the liberty of the press, and, 
as far as his influence can extend, should endeavor to prevent its 
licentiousness becoming at last the grave of its freedom. 

" Oliver Gtoldsmith." 

Boswell, who had just arrived in town, met with this article 
in a newspaper which he found at Dr. Johnson's. The doctor 
was from home at the time, and Bozzy and Mrs. Williams, in a 
critical conference over the letter, determined from the style that 
it must have been written by the lexicographer himself The 
latter on his return soon undeceived them. " Sir," said he to 
Boswell, " Groldsmith would no more have asked me to have wrote 
such a thing as that for him, than he would have asked me to 
feed him with a spoon, or do any thing else that denoted his im- 
becility. Sir, had he shown it to any one friend, he would not 
have been allowed to publish it. He has, indeed, done it very 
well ; but it is a foolish thing well done. I suppose he has been 
so much elated with the success of his new comedy, that he has 
thought every thing that concerned him must be of importance to 
the public." 



BOSWELL IN HOLY-WEEK. 327 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Boswell in Holy- Week. — Dinner at Oglethorpe's. — Dinner at Paoli's. — The 
policy of truth. — Goldsmith affects independence of royalty. — Paoli's com- 
pliment — Johnson's eulogium on the fiddle. — Question about suicide. — 
Boswell's subserviency. 

The return of Boswell to town to his task of noting down the 
conversations of Johnson, enables us to glean from his journal 
some scanty notices of Goldsmith. It was now Holy-Week, a 
time, during which Johnson was particularly solemn in his man- 
ner and strict in his devotions. Boswell, who was the imitator 
of the great moralist in every thing, assumed, of course, an ex- 
tra devoutness on the present occasion. " He had an odd mock 
solemnity of tone and manner," said Miss Burney, (afterwards 
Madame D'Arblay,) "which he had acquired from constantly 
thinking, and imitating Dr. Johnson." It would seem that he 
undertook to deal out some second-hand homilies, a la John- 
son^ for the edification of Goldsmith during Holy-Week. The 
poet, whatever might be his religious feeling, had no disposition 
to be schooled by so shallow an apostle. " Sir," said he in reply, 
" as I take my shoes from the shoemaker, and my coat from the 
tailor, so I take my religion from the priest." 

Boswell treasured up the reply in his memory or his memo- 
randum book. A few days afterwards, the 9th of April, he kept 



328 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Grood Friday witli Dr. Jolinsoii, in orthodox style ; breakfasted 
with him on tea and crossbuns ; went to church with him morn- 
ing and evening ; fasted in the interval, and read with him in the 
Greek Testament : then, in the piety of his heart, complained 
of the sore rebuff he had met with in the course of his religious 
exhortations to the poet, and lamented that the latter should in- 
dulge in " this loose way of talking." " Sir," replied Johnson, 
" Groldsmith knows nothing — he has made up his mind about 
nothing." 

This reply seems to have gratified the lurking jealousy of 
Boswell, and he has recorded it in his journal. Johnson, how- 
ever, with respect to Groldsmith, and indeed with respect to every 
body else, blew hot as well as cold, according to the humor he 
was in. Boswell, who was astonished and piqued at the continu- 
ally increasing celebrity of the poet, observed some time after to 
Johnson, in a tone of surprise, that Goldsmith had acquired 
more fame than all the officers of the last war who were not 
generals. "Why, sir," answered Johnson, his old feeling of 
good-will working uppermost, " you will find ten thousand fit to 
do what they did, before you find one to do what Goldsmith has 
done. You must consider that a thing is valued according to its 
rarity. A pebble that paves the street, is in itself more useful 
than the diamond upon a lady's finger." 

On the 13th of April we find Goldsmith and Johnson at the 
table of old General Oglethorpe, discussing the question of the 
degeneracy of the human race. Goldsmith asserts the fact, and 
attributes it to the influence of luxury. Johnson denies the 
fact ; and observes, that even admitting it, luxury could not be 
the cause. It reached but a small proportion of the human 
race. Soldiers, on sixpence a day, could not indulge in luxuries ; 



DINNER AT PAOLI'S. 329 



the poor and laboring classes, forming the great mass of mankind, 
were out of its sphere. Wherever it could reach them, it 
strengthened them and rendered them prolific. The conversa- 
tion was not of particular force or point as reported by Boswell ; 
the dinner party was a very small one, in which there was no 
provocation to intellectual display. 

After dinner they took tea with the ladies, where we find 
poor Goldsmith happy and at home, singing Tony Lumpkin's 
song of the " Three Jolly Pigeons," and another, called the 
" Humors of Ballamaguery," to a very pretty Irish tune. It 
was to have been introduced in She Stoops to Conquer, but was 
left out, as the actress who played the heroine could not sing. 

It was in these genial moments that the sunshine of Grold- 
smith's nature would break out, and he would say and do a 
thousand whimsical and agreeable things that made him the life 
of the strictly social circle. Johnson, with whom conversation 
was every thing, used to judge Goldsmith too much by his own 
colloquial standard, and undervalue him for being less provided 
than himself with acquired facts, the ammunition of the tongue 
and often the mere lumber of the memory ; others, however, 
valued him for the native felicity of his thoughts, however care- 
lessly expressed, and for certain good-fellow qualities, less calcu- 
lated to dazzle than to endear. " It is amazing," said Johnson 
one day, after he himself had been talking like an oracle ; " it 
is amazing how little Goldsmith knows ; he seldom comes where 
be is not more ignorant than any one else." " Yet," replied Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, with affectionate promptness, " there is no man 
whose company is more likedP 

Two or three days after the dinner at General Oglethorpe's, 
Goldsmith met Johnson again at the table of General Paoli, the 



330 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



hero of Corsica. Martinelli, of Florence, author of an Italian His- 
tory of England, was among the guests ; as was Boswell, to whom 
we are indebted for minutes of the conversation which took place. 
The question was debated whether Martinelli- should continue his 
history down to that day. " To be sure he should," said Gold- 
smith. " No, sir ;" cried Johnson, " it would give great offence. 
He would have to tell of almost all the living great what they 
did not wish told." Groldsmith. — " It may, perhaps, be necessary 
for a native to be more cautious ; but a foreigner, who comes 
among us without prejudice, may be considered as holding the 
place of a judge, and may speak his mind freely." Johnson. — 
" Sir, a foreigner, when he sends a work from the press, ought to 
be on his guard against catching the error and mistaken enthu- 
siasm of the people among whom he happens to be." Goldsmith. 
— " Sir, he wants only to sell his history, and to tell truth ; 
one an honest, the other a laudable motive." Johnson. — 
" Sir, they are both laudable motives. It is laudable in a man 
to wish to live by his labors ; but he should write so as he 
may live by them, not so as he may be knocked on the head. 
I would advise him to be at Calais before he publishes his his- 
tory of the present age. A foreigner who attaches himself to 
a political party in this country, is in the worst state that can 
be imagined ; he is looked upon as a mere intermeddler. A 
native may do it from interest." Boswell. — " Or principle." 
Goldsmith. — " There are people who tell a hundred political 
lies every day, and are not hurt by it. Surely, then, one may tell 
truth with perfect safety." Johnson. — " Why, sir, in the first 
place, he who tells a hundred lies has disarmed the force of his 
lies. But, besides, a man had rather have a hundred lies told of 
him, than one truth which he does not wish to be told." Gold- 



INDEPENDENCE OF ROYALTY. 331 



smith. — " For my part, I'd tell the truth, and shame the devil." 
Johnson. — " Yes, sir, but the devil will be angry. I wish to 
shame the devil as much as you do, but I should choose to be 
out of the reach of his claws." Groldsmith. — " His claws can do 
you no hurt where you have the shield of truth." 

This last reply was one of Goldsmith's lucky hits, and closed 
the argument in his favor. 

" We talked," writes Boswell, " of the king's coming to see 
Goldsmith's new play." " I wish he would," said Goldsmith, add- 
ing, however, with an aflfected indifference, " not that it would 
do me the least good." " Well, then," cried Johnson, laughing, 
" let us say it would do him good. No, sir, this affectation will 
not pass ; — it is mighty idle. In such a state as ours, who would 
not wish to please the chief magistrate ?" 

"I do wish to please him," rejoined Goldsmith. "I remem- 
ber a line in Dryden : 

* And every poit is the monarch's friend,' 

it ought to be reversed." "Nay," said Johnson, "there are 
finer lines in Dryden on this subject : 

' For colleges on bounteous kings depend, 
And never rebel was to arts a friend.' " 

General Paoli observed that "successful rebels might be." 
" Happy rebellions," interjected Martinelli. " We have no such 
phrase," cried Goldsmith. "But have you not the thing?" 
asked Paoli. " Yes," replied Goldsmith, " all our happy revolu- 
tions. They have hurt our constitution, and wUl hurt it, till we 



332 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



mend it by another happy revolution." This was a sturdy sally 
of Jacobitism, that quite surprised Boswell, but must have been 
relished by Johnson. 

Greneral Paoli mentioned a passage in the play, which had 
been construed into a compliment to a lady of distinction, whose 
marriage with the Duke of Cumberland, had excited the strong 
disapprobation of the king as a mesalliance. Boswell, to draw 
Goldsmith out, pretended to think the compliment unintentional. 
The poet smiled and hesitated. The general came to his relief 
" Monsieur Goldsmith," said he, " est comme la mer, qui jette 
des perles et beau coup d'autres belles choses, sans s'en apper- 
cevoir." (Mr. Goldsmith is like the sea, which casts forth pearls 
and many other beautiful things without perceiving it.) 

" Tres-bien dit, et tres-elegamment," (very well said, and very 
elegantly,) exclaimed Goldsmith ; delighted with so beautiful a 
compliment from such a quarter. 

Johnson spoke disparagingly of the learning of Mr. Harris, 
of Salisbury, and doubted his being %, good Grecian. " He is 
what is much better," cried Goldsmith, with prompt good nature, 
" he is a worthy, humane man." *' Nay, sir," rejoined the logical 
Johnson, " that is not to the purpose of our argument ; that 
will prove that he can play upon the fiddle as well as Giardini, as 
that he is an eminent Grecian." Goldsmith found he had got 
into a scrape, and seized upon Giardini to help him out of it. 
" The greatest musical performers," said he, dextrously turning 
the conversation, " have but small emoluments ; Giardini, I am 
told, does not get above seven hundred a year." " That is indeed 
but little for a man to get," observed Johnson, " who does best 
that which so many endeavor to do. There is nothing, I think, 
in which the power of art is shown so much as in playing on 



SUICIDE. 333 

the fiddle. In all other things we can do something at first. 
Any man will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a hammer ; 
not so well as a smith, but tolerably. A man will saw a piece 
of wood, and make a box, though a clumsy one ; but give him a 
fiddle and fiddlestick, and he can do nothing." 

This, upon the whole, though reported by the one-sided Bos- 
well, is a tolerable specimen of the conversations of Goldsmith 
and Johnson ; the former heedless, often illogical, always on the 
kind-hearted side of the question, and prone to redeem himself 
by lucky hits ; the latter closely argumentative, studiously sen- 
tentious, often profound, and sometimes laboriously prosaic. 

They had an argument a few days later at Mr. Thrale's table, 
on the subject of suicide. " Do you think, sir," said Boswell, 
" that all who commit suicide are mad 1" " Sir," replied John- 
son, " they are not often universally disordered in their intel- 
lects, but one passion presses so upon them that they yield to it, 
and commit suicide, as a passionate man will stab another. I 
have often thought," added he, " that after a man has taken the 
resolution to kill himself, it is not courage in him to do any thing, 
however desperate, because he has nothing to fear." " I don't 
see that," observed Goldsmith. " Nay, but my dear sir," rejoined 
Johnson, " why should you not see what every one else does ?" 
" It is," replied Goldsmith, " for fear of something that he has 
resolved to kill himself; and will not that timid disposition 
restrain him?" "It does not signify," pursued Johnson, "that 
the fear of something made him resolve ; it is upon the state of 
his mind, after the resolution is taken, that I argue. Suppose 
a man, either from fear, or pride, or conscience, or whatever mo- 
tive, has resolved to kill himself; when once the resolution is 
taken he has nothing to fear. He may then go and take the 



334 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



King of Prussia by the nose at the head of his army. He can- 
not fear the rack who is determined to kill himself" Boswell 
reports no more of the discussion, though Goldsmith might have 
continued it with advantage: for the very timid disposition, 
which through fear of something, was impelling the man to com- 
mit suicide, might restrain him from an act, involving the punish- 
ment of the rack, more terrible to him than death itself 

It is to be regretted in all these reports by Boswell, we have 
scarcely any thing but the remarks of Johnson ; it is only by 
accident that he now and then gives us the observations of others, 
when they are necessary to explain or set off those of his hero. 
" When in that pj-esence,^'' says Miss Burney, " he was unobserv- 
ant, if not contemptuous of every one else. In truth, when he 
met with Dr. Johnson, he commonly forbore even answering any 
thing that was said, or attending to any thing that went forward, 
lest he should miss the smallest sound from that voice, to which, 
he paid such exclusive, though merited, homage. But the mo- 
ment that voice burst forth, the attention which it excited on 
Mr. Boswell, amounted almost to pain. His eyes goggled with 
eagerness ; he leant his ear almost on the shoulder of the doctor ; 
and his mouth dropped open to catch every syllable that might 
be uttered ; nay, he seemed not only to dread losing a word, but 
to be anxious not to miss a breathing ; as if hoping from it 
latently, or mystically, some information." 

On one occasion the doctor detected Boswell, or Bozzy, as he 
called him, eavesdropping behind his chair, as he was conversing 
with Miss Burney at Mr. Thrale's table. "What are you doing 
there, sir?" cried he, turning round angrily, and clapping his 
hand upon his knee. " Gro to the table, sir." 

Boswell obeyed with an air of affright and submission, which 



THE LAIRD OF AFFLECK. 335 



raised a smile on every face. Scarce had he taken his seat, how- 
ever, at a distance, than impatient to get again at the side of 
Johnson, he rose and was running off in quest of something to 
show him, when the doctor roared after him authoritatively, 
" What are you thinking of, sir ? Why do you get up before the 
cloth is removed ? Come back to your place, sir ;" — and the ob- 
sequious spaniel did as he was commanded. — " Running about in 
the middle of meals !" muttered the doctor, pursing his mouth 
at the same time to restrain his rising risibility. 

Boswell got another rebuff from Johnson, which would have 
demolished any other man. He had been teasing him with many 
direct questions, such as What did you do, sir ? — What did you 
say, sir? until the great philologist became perfectly enraged. 
" I will not be put to the question .'" roared he. " Don't you 
consider, sir, that these are not the manners of a gentleman ? I 
will not be baited with xchat and ivhy ; What is this ? What is 
that ? Why is a cow's tail long ? Why is a fox's tail bushy ?" 
'• Why, sir," replied pil-garlick, "you are so good that T venture 
to trouble you." " Sir," replied Johnson, " my being so good is 
no reason why you should be so ill." " You have but two topics, 
sir ;" exclaimed he on another occasion, " yourself and me, and 
I am sick of both." 

Boswell's inveterate disposition to to«f/, was a sore cause of 
mortification to his father, the old laird of Auchinleck, (or 
Affleck.) He had been annoyed by his extravagant devotion to 
Paoli, but then he was something of a military hero ; but this tag- 
ging at the heels of Dr. Johnson, whom he considered a kind of 
pedagogue, set his Scotch blood in a ferment. " There's nae hope 
for Jamie, mon," said he to a friend ; " Jamie is gaen clean gyte. 
What do you think, mon ? He's done wi' Paoli ; he's off wi' the 



336 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



land-louping scoundrel of a Corsican ; and whose tail do you 
think he has pinn'd himself to now, mon ? A dominie, mon ; an 
auld dominie : he keeped a schule, and cau'd it an acaadamy." 
We shall show in the next chapter that Jamie's devotion to 
the dominie did not go unrewarded. 



CHANGES IN THE LITERARY CLUB. 337 



CHAPTER XL. 

Changes in the Literary Club. — Johnson's objection to Garrick. — Election of 

Boswell. 

The Literary Club (as we have termed the club in Gerard-street, 
though it took that name some time later) had now been in exist- 
ence several years. Johnson was exceedingly chary at first of 
its exclusiveness, and opposed to its being augmented in num- 
ber. Not long after its institution, Sir Joshua Reynolds was 
speaking of it to Garrick. " I like it much," said little David, 
briskly ; " I think I shall be of you." " When Sir Joshua men- 
tioned this to Dr. Johnson," says Boswell, " he was much dis- 
pleased with the actor's conceit. ' HeHl he of us V growled he. 
' How does he know we will ixnnit him % The first duke in Eng- 
land has no right to hold such language.' " 

When Sir John Hawkins spoke favorably of Garrick's pre- 
tensions, " Sir," replied Johnson, " he will disturb us by his 
buffoonery." In the same spirit he declared to Mr. Thrale, that 
if Garrick should apply for admission, he would black-ball him. 
" Who, sir ?" exclaimed Thrale, with surprise ; " Mr. Garrick — 
your friend, your companion — black-ball him !" " Why, sir," 
replied Johnson, " I love my little David dearly — better than all 
or any of his flatterers do ; but surely one ought to sit in a society 
like ours, 

" * Unelbowed by a gamester, pimp, or player.' " 
15 



338 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



The exclusion from the club was a sore mortification to G-ar- 
rick, though he bore it without complaining. He could not help 
continually to ask questions about it — what was going on there — 
whether he was ever the subject of conversation. By degrees the 
rigor of the club relaxed : some of the members grew negligent. 
Beauclerc lost his right of membership by neglecting to attend. 
On his marriage, however, with Lady Diana Spencer, daughter 
of the Duke of Marlborough, and recently divorced from Viscount 
Bolingbroke, he had claimed and regained his seat in the club. 
The number of members had likewise been augmented. The pro- 
position to increase it originated with Goldsmith. " It would 
give," he thought, " an agreeable variety to their meetings ; for 
there can be nothing new amongst us," said he ; " we have travelled 
over each other's minds." Johnson was piqued at the suggestion. 
" Sir," said he, " you have not travelled over my mind, I promise 
you." Sir Joshua, less confident in the exhaustless fecundity of 
his mind, felt and acknowledged the force of Goldsmith's sugges- 
tion. Several new members, therefore, had been added ; the first, 
to his great joy, was David Garrick. Goldsmith, who was now 
on cordial terms with him, had zealously promoted his election, 
and Johnson had given it his warm approbation. Another new 
member was Beauclerc's friend, Lord Charlemont ; and a still 
more important one was Mr., afterwards Sir William Jones, the 
famous Orientalist, at that time a young lawyer of the Temple 
and a distinguished scholar. 

To the great astonishment of the club, Johnson now proposed 
his devoted follower, Boswell, as a member. He did it in a note 
addressed to G-oldsmith, who presided on the evening of the 23d 
of April. The nomination was seconded by Beauclerc. Accord- 
ing to the rulee of the club, the ballot would take place at the 



BOSWELL AT THE CLUB. 339 



next meeting (on the 30tli) ; there was an intervening week, 
therefore, in which to discuss the pretensions of the candidate. 
We may easily imagine the discussions that took place. Boswell 
had made himself absurd in such a variety of ways, that the very 
idea of his admission was exceedingly irksome to some of the mem- 
bers. " The honor of being elected into the Turk's Head Club," 
said the Bishop of St. Asaph, " is not inferior to that of being 
representative of Westminster and Surrey :" what had Boswell 
done to merit such an honor ? What chance had he of gaining 
it? The answer was simple: he had been the persevering wor- 
shipper, if not sycophant of Johnson. The great lexicographer 
had a heart to be won by apparent affection : he stood forth au- 
thoritatively in support of his vassal. If asked to state the merits 
of the candidate, he summed them up in an indefinite but com- 
prehensive word of his own coining : he was dubable. He more- 
over gave significant hints that if Boswell were kept out he should 
oppose the admission of any other candidate. No further oppo- 
sition was made ; in fact none of the members had been so fasti- 
dious and exclusive in regard to the club as Johnson himself; 
and if he were pleased, they were easily satisfied : besides, they 
knew that with all his faults, Boswell was a cheerful companion, 
and possessed lively social qualities. 

On Friday, when the ballot was to take place, Beauclerc gave 
a dinner, at his house in the Adelphi, where Boswell met several 
of the members who were favorable to his election. After dinner 
the latter adjourned to the club, leaving Boswell in company with 
Lady Di Beauclerc until the fate of his election should be known. 
He sat, he says, in a state of anxiety which even the charming 
conversation of Lady Di could not entirely dissipate. It was not 
long before tidings were brought of his election, and he was con- 



340 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



ducted to the place of meeting, where, beside the company he had met 
at dinner, Burke, Dr. Nugent, Garrick, Groldsmith, and Mr. "William 
Jones were waiting to receive him. The club, notwithstanding all 
its learned dignity in the eyes of the world, could at times "unbend 
and play the fool" as well as less important bodies. Some of 
its jocose conversations have at times leaked out, and a society 
in which Goldsmith could venture to sing his song of " an old 
woman tossed in a blanket," could not be so very staid in its gra- 
vity. We may suppose, therefore, the jokes that had been passing 
among the members while awaiting the arrival of Boswell. Beau- 
clerc himself could not have repressed his disposition for a sar- 
castic pleasantry. At least we have a right to presume all 
this from the conduct of Doctor Johnson himself 

With all his gravity he possessed a deep fund of quiet humor, 
and felt a kind of whimsical responsibility to protect the club from 
the absurd propensities of the very questionable associate he had 
thus inflicted on them. Rising, therefore, as Boswell entered, he 
advanced with a very doetorial air, placed himself behind a chair, 
on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and then delivered, ex 
cathedra, a mock solemn charge, pointing out the conduct expected 
from him as a good member of the club ; what he was to do, and 
especially what he was to avoid ; including in the latter, no doubt, 
all those petty, prying, questioning, gossiping, babbling habits 
which had so often grieved the spirit of the lexicographer. It is 
to be regretted that Boswell has never thought proper to note 
down the particulars of this charge, which, from the well known 
characters and positions of the parties, might have furnished a 
parallel to the noted charge of Launcelot Gobbo to his dog. 



DINNER AT DILLY'S. 341 



CHAPTER XLI. 

Dinner at Billy's. — Conversations on natural history. — Intermeddling of Bos- 
well. — Dispute about toleration. — Johnson's rebuff to Goldsmith — hia 
apology. — Man-worship. — Doctors Major and Minor. — A farewell visit. 

A FEW days after the serio-comic scene of the elevation of Bos- 
well into the Literary Club, we find that indefatigable biographer 
giving particulars of a dinner at the Dillys, booksellers, in the 
Poultry, at which he met Goldsmith and Johnson, with several 
other literary characters. His anecdotes of the conversation, of 
course, go to glorify Dr. Johnson ; for, as he observes in his 
biography, " his conversation alone, or what led to it, or was 
interwoven with it, is the business of this woi'k." Still on the 
present, as on other occasions, he gives unintentional and perhaps 
unavoidable gleams of Goldsmith's good sense, which show that 
the latter only wanted a less prejudiced and more impartial 
reporter, to put down the charge of colloquial incapacity so un- 
justly fixed upon him. The conversation turned upon the 
natural history of birds, a beautiful subject, on which the poet, 
from his recent studies, his habits of observation, and his natu- 
ral tastes, must have talked with instruction and feeling ; yet, 
though we have much of what Johnson said, we have only a 
casual remark or two of Goldsmith. One was on the migration 
of swallows, which he pronounced partial ; " the stronger ones," 
said he, " migrate, the others do not." 



342 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Johnson denied to the brute creation the faculty of reason. 
" Birds," said he, " build by instinct ; they never improve ; they 
build their first nest as well as any one they ever build." " Yet 
we see," observed Goldsmith, " if you take away a bird's nest 
with the eggs in it, she will make a slighter nest and lay again." 
"Sir," replied Johnson, "that is because at first she has full 
time, and makes her nest deliberately. In the case you mention, 
she is pressed to lay, and must, therefore, make her nest quickly, 
and consequently it will be slight." " The nidification of birds," 
rejoined Goldsmith, " is what is least known in natural history, 
though one of the most curious things in it." While conver- 
sation was going on in this placid, agreeable and instructive 
manner, the eternal meddler and busy-body Boswell, must intrude, 
to put it in a brawl. The Dillys were dissenters ; two of their 
guests were dissenting clergymen ; another, Mr. Toplady, was a 
clergyman of the established church. Johnson, himself, was a 
zealous, uncompromising churchman. None but a marplot like 
Boswell, would have thought, on such an occasion, and in such 
company, to broach the subject of religious toleration ; but, as 
has been well observed, " it was his perverse inclination to intro- 
duce subjects that he hoped would produce difference and debate." 
In the present instance he gained his point. An animated dis- 
pute immediately arose, in which, according to Boswell's report, 
Johnson monopolized the greater part of the conversation ; not 
always treating the dissenting clergymen with the greatest 
courtesy, and even once wounding the feelings of the mild and 
amiable Bennet Langton by his harshness. 

Goldsmith mingled a little in the dispute and with some 
advantage, but was cut short by flat contradictions when most in 
the right. He sat for a time silent but impatient under such 



JOHNSON'S REBUFF. 343 



overbearing dogmatism, though Boswell, with his usual misinter- 
pretation, attributes his " restless agitation " to a wish to get in 
and shine. " Finding himself excluded," continues Boswell, " he 
had taken his hat to go away, but remained for a time with it in 
his hand, like a gamester, who at the end of a long night, lingers 
for a little while to see if he can have a favorable opportunity to 
finish with success." Once he was beginning to speak when he 
was overpowered by the loud voice of Johnson, who was at the 
opposite end of the table, and did not perceive his attempt ; 
whereupon he threw down, as it were, his hat and his argument, 
and, darting an angry glance at Johnson, exclaimed in a bitter 
tone, " Take itP 

Just then one of the disputants was beginning to speak, when 
Johnson uttering some sound, as if about to interrupt him, Grold- 
smith, according to Boswell, seized the opportunity to vent his 
own e7ivy and spleen under pretext of supporting another person. 
" Sir," said he to Johnson, " the gentleman has heard you pa- 
tiently for an hour ; pray allow us now to hear him." It was a 
reproof in the lexicographer's own style, and he may have felt 
that he merited it ; but he was not accustomed to be reproved. 
" Sir," said he, sternly, " I was not interrupting the gentleman ; I 
was only giving him a signal of my attention. Sir, you are iniper- 
tinetitP Goldsmith made no reply, but after some time went away, 
having another engagement. 

That evening, as Boswell was on the way with Johnson and 
Langton to the club, he seized the occasion to make some dispar- 
aging remarks on Goldsmith, which he thought would just then be 
acceptable to the great lexicographer. " It was a pity," he said, 
" that Goldsmith would, on every occasion, endeavor to shine, by 
which he so often exposed himself." Langton contrasted him 



344 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



with Addison, who, content with the fame of his writings, acknow 
ledged himself unfit for conversation ; and on being taxed by a lady 
with silence in company, replied, " Madam, I have but nine pence in 
ready money, but I can draw for a thousand pounds" To this 
Boswell rejoined, that Goldsmith had a great deal of gold in his 
cabinet, but was always taking out his purse. " Yes, sir," chuck- 
led Johnson, " and that so often an empty purse." 

By the time Johnson arrived at the club, however, his angry 
feelings had subsided, and his native generosity and sense of jus- 
tice had got the uppermost. He found Groldsmith in company 
with Burke, Garrick, and other members, but sitting silent and 
apart, "brooding," as Boswell says, " over the reprimand he had re- 
ceived." Johnson's good heart yearned towards him ; and knowing 
his placable nature, " I'll make Goldsmith forgive me," whispered 
he ; then, with a loud voice, " Dr. Goldsmith," said he, " some- 
thing passed to-day where you and I dined — I osk your j^cLTdonP 
The ire of the poet was extinguished in an instant, and his grate- 
ful affection for the magnanimous though sometimes overbearing 
moralist, rushed to his heart. " It must be much from you, sir," 
said he, " that I take ill ! " " And so," adds Boswell, " the differ- 
ence was over, and they were on as easy terms as ever, and Gold- 
smith rattled away as usual." We do not think these stories tell 
to the poet's disadvantage, even though related by Boswell. 

Goldsmith, with all his modesty, could not be ignorant of his 
proper merit ; and must have felt annoyed at times at being 
undervalued and elbowed aside, by light-minded or dull men, in 
their blind and exclusive homage to the literary autocrat. It 
was a fine reproof he gave to Boswell on one occasion, for talking 
of Johnson as entitled to the honor of exclusive superiority. 
" Sir, you are for making a monarchy what should be a republic." 



DOCTORS MAJOR AND MINOR. 345 



On another occasion, when he was conversing in company with 
great vivacity, and apparently to the satisfaction of those around 
him, an honest Swiss who sat near, one George Michael Moser, 
keeper of the Royal Academy, perceiving Dr. Johnson rolling 
himself as if about to speak, exclaimed, " Stay, stay ! Toctor 
Shonson is going to say something." " And are you sure, sir," 
replied Goldsmith, sharply, " that you can comprehend what he 
says ?" 

This clever rebuke, which gives the main zest to the anecdote, is 
omitted by Boswell, who probably did not perceive the point of it. 

He relates another anecdote of the kind on the authority of 
Johnson himself The latter and Goldsmith were one CA'ening 
in company with the Rev. George Graham, a master of Eton, 
who, notwithstanding the sobriety of his cloth, had got intox- 
icated " to about the pitch of looking at one man and talking to 
another." " Doctor," cried he in an ecstasy of devotion and good- 
will, but goggling by mistake upon Goldsmith, " I should be glad 
to see you at Eton." " I shall be glad to wait upon you," replied 
Goldsmith." "No, no!" cried the other eagerly; "'tis not you 
I mean, Doctor Minor ^ 'tis Doctor Major there." " You may 
easily conceive," said Johnson in relating the anecdote, " what 
effect this had upon Goldsmith, who was irascible as a hornet." 
The only comment, however, which he is said to have made, par- 
takes more of quaint and dry humor than bitterness : " That 
Graham," said he, " is enoi%h to make one commit suicide." What 

^au^e could be said to express the intolerable nuisance of a con- 
^^^Biate hore 

^Bl^V^e have now given the last scenes between Goldsmith and 
Johnson which stand recorded by Boswell. The latter called on 
the poet a few days after the dinner at Dilly's, to take leave of 

15* 



346 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



him prior to departing for Scotland ; yet, even in this last inter- 
view, he contrives to get up a charge of " jealousy and envy." 
Groldsmith, he would fain persuade us, is very angry that Johnson 
is going to travel with him in Scotland : and endeavors to per- 
suade him that he will be a dead weight " to lug along through 
the Highlands and Hebrides." Any one else, knowing the cha- 
racter and habits of Johnson, would have thought the same ; and 
no one but Boswell would have supposed his oihce of bear-leader 
to the ursa major a thing to be envied.* 

* One of Peter Pindar's (Dr. Wolcot) most amusing jeux d'esprit is his 
congratulatory epistle to Boswell on this tour, of which we subjoin a few lines. 

Boswell, Bozzy, Bruce, whate'er thy name, 
Thou mighty shark for anecdote and fame ; 
Thou jackal, leading lion Johnson forth. 
To eat M'Pherson 'midst his native north ; 
To frighten grave professors with his roar. 
And shake the Hebrides from shore to shore. 
******** 

Bless'd be thy labors, most adventurous Bozzy, 

Bold rival of Sir John and Dame Piozzi ; 

Heavens ! with what laurels shall thy head be crovra'd ! 

A grove, a forest, shall thy ears surround ! 

Yes ! whilst the Rambler shall a comet blaze. 

And gild a world of darkness with his rays. 

Thee, too, that world with wonderment shall hail, 

A lively, bouncing cracker at his tail ! 




PROJECT OF A DICTIONARY. 347 



CHAPTER XLII. 

Project of a Dictionary of Arts and Sciences. — Disappointment. — Negligent 
authorship. — Application for a pension. — Beattie's Essay on Truth. — Public 
adulation. — A high-minded rebuke. 

The works which Groldsmith had still in hand being already paid 
for, and the money gone, some new scheme must be devised to 
provide for the past and the future — for impending debts which 
threatened to crush him, and expenses which were continually 
increasing. He now projected a work of greater compass than 
any he had yet undertaken ; a Dictionary of Arts and Sciences 
on a comprehensive scale, which was to occupy a number of vo- 
lumes. For this he received promises of assistance from several 
powerful hands. Johnson was to contribute an article on ethics ; 
Burke, an abstract of his Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, 
an essay on the Berkleyan system of philosophy, and others on 
political science ; Sir Joshua Reynolds, an essay on painting ; 
and Grarrick, while he undertook on his own part to furnish an 
essay on acting, engaged Dr. Burney to contribute an article on 
music. Here was a great array of talent positively engaged, 
while other writers of eminence were to be sought for the various 
departments of science. Groldsmith was to edit the whole. An 
undertaking of this kind, while it did not incessantly task and 
exhaust his inventive powers by original composition, would give 



^^ 



348 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



agreeable and profitable exercise to bis taste and judgment in 
selecting, compiling, and arranging, and be calculated to diffuse 
over tbe wbole tbe acknowledged graces of bis style. 

He drew up a prospectus of tbe plan, wbicb is said by Bisbop 
Percy, wbo saw it, to bave been written witb uncommon ability, 
and to bave bad tbat perspicuity and elegance for wbicb his 
writings are remarkable. Tbis paper, unfortunately, is no longer 
in existence. 

Groldsmitb's expectations, always sanguine respecting any new 
plan, were raised to an extraordinary beigbt by tbe present pro- 
ject; and well tbey migbt be, wben we consider tbe powerful 
coadjutors already pledged. They were doomed, however, to 
complete disappointment. Davies, tbe bibliopole of Russell-street, 
lets us into the secret of tbis failure. " The booksellers," said 
be, " notwithstanding they had a very good opinion of bis abili- 
ties, yet were startled at tbe bulk, importance, and expense of so 
great an undertaking, tbe fate of which was to depend upon the 
industry of a man witb whose indolence of temper and method 
of procrastination they had long been acquainted." 

Groldsmitb certainly gave reason for some such distrust by 
the heedlessness with which be conducted his literary undertak- 
ings. Those unfinished, but paid for, would be suspended to 
make way for some job tbat was to provide for present necessities. 
Those thus hastily taken up would be as hastily executed, and 
the wbole, however pressing, would be shoved aside and left " at 
loose ends," on some sudden call to social enjoyment or recre- 
ation. 

Cradock tells us tbat on one occasion, wben Groldsmitb was 
bard at work on his Natural History, be sent to Dr. Percy and 
himself, entreating them to finish some pages of bis work wbicb 



NATURAL HISTORY. 349 



lay upon his table, and for which the press was urgent, he being 
detained bj other engagements at Windsor. They met by appoint- 
ment at his chambers in the Temple, where they found every thing 
in disorder, and costly books lying scattered about on the tables 
and on the floor ; many of the books on natural history which he 
had recently consulted lay open among uncorrected proof-sheets. 
The subject in hand, and from which he had suddenly broken oiF, 
related to birds. " Do you know any thing about birds ?" asked 
Dr. Percy, smiling. "Not an atom," replied Cradock ; "do you?" 
" Not I ! I scarcely know a goose from a swan : however, let us 
try what we can do." They set to work and completed their 
friendly task. Groldsmith, however, when he came to revise it, 
made such alterations that they could neither of them recognize 
their own share. The engagement at Windsor, which had thus 
caused Goldsmith to break off suddenly from his multifarious 
engagements, was a party of pleasure with some literary ladies. 
Another anecdote was current, illustrative of the carelessness 
with which he executed works requiring accuracy and research. 
On the 22d of June he had received payment in advance for a 
Grrecian History in two volumes, though only one was finished. 
As he was pushing on doggedly at the second volume, Gibbon, the 
historian, called in. " You are the man of all others I wish to 
see," cried the poet, glad to be saved the trouble of reference to 
his books. " What was the name of that Indian king who gave 
Alexander the Great so much trouble ?" " Montezuma," replied 
Gibbon, sportively. The heedless author was about committing 
the name to paper without reflection, when Gibbon pretended to 
recollect himself, and gave the true name, Porus. 

This story, very probably, was a sportive exaggeration ; but 
it was a multiplicity of anecdotes like this and the preceding one, 



350 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



some true and some false, which had impaired the confidence of 
booksellers in Groldsmith, as a man to be relied on for a task 
requiring wide and accurate research, and close and long con- 
tinued application. The project of the Universal Dictionary^ 
therefore, met with no encouragement, and fell through. 

The failure of this scheme, on which he had built such spacious 
hopes, sank deep into Goldsmith's heart. He was still further 
grieved and mortified by the failure of an effort made by some of 
his friends to obtain for him a pension from government. There had 
been a talk of the disposition of the ministry to extend the bounty of 
the crown to distinguished literary men in pecuniary difficulty, with- 
out regard to their political creed : when the merits and claims 
of Goldsmith, however, were laid before them, they met no favor. 
The sin of sturdy independence lay at his door. He had refused 
to become a ministerial hack when offered a carte blanche by Par- 
son Scott, the cabinet emissary. The wondering parson had left 
him in poverty and " his garret^'' and there the ministry were 
disposed to suffer him to remain. 

In the meantime Dr. Beattie comes out with his Essay on 
Truth, and all the orthodox world are thrown into a paroxysm of 
contagious ecstasy. He is cried up as the great champion of 
Christianity against the attacks of modern philosophers and in- 
fidels ; he is f&ted and flattered in every way. He receives at 
Oxford the honorary degree of doctor of civil law, at the same 
time with Sir Joshua Reynolds. The king sends for him, praises 
his Essay, and gives him a pension of two hundred pounds. 

Goldsmith feels more acutely the denial of a pension to him- 
self when one has thus been given unsolicited to a man he might 
without vanity consider so much his inferior. He was not one 
to conceal his feelings. " Here's such a stir," said he one day at 



A HIGH-MINDED REBUKE. 351 



Thrale's table, " about a fellow that has written one book, and I 
have written so many ! " 

" Ah, Doctor ! " exclaimed Johnson, in one of his caustic 
moods, " there go two and forty sixpences, you know, to one 
guinea." This is one of the cuts at poor Groldsmith in which 
Johnson went contrary to head and heart in his love for saying 
what is called a "good thing." No one knew better than him- 
self the comparative superiority of the writings of Groldsmith ; 
but the jingle of the sixpences and the guinea was not to be 
resisted. 

" Every body," exclaimed Mrs. Thrale, " loves Dr. Beattie, 
but Goldsmith, who says he cannot bear the sight of so much ap- 
plause as they all bestow upon him. Did he not tell us so him- 
self no one would believe he was so exceedingly ill-natured." 

He told them so himself because he was too open and unre- 
served to disguise his feelings, and because he really considered 
the praise lavished on Beattie extravagant, as in fact it was. It 
was all, of course, set down to sheer envy and uncharitableness. 
To add to his annoyance, he found his friend. Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds, joining in the universal adulation. He had painted a full 
length portrait of Beattie decked in the doctor's robes in which 
he bad figured at Oxford, with the Essay on Truth under his arm 
and the angel of truth at his side, while Voltaire figured as one 
of the demons of infidelity, sophistry, and falsehood, driven into 
utter darkness. 

Goldsmith had known Voltaire in early life ; he had been his 
admirer and his biographer ; he grieved to find him receiving such 
an insult from the classic pencil of his friend. " It is unworthy 
of you," said he to Sir Joshua, " to debase so high a genius as 
Voltaire before so mean a writer as Beattie. Beattie and his 



352 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



book will be forgotten in ten years, wbile Yoltaire's fame will last 
for ever. Take care it does not perpetuate this picture to the 
shame of such a man as you." This noble and high-minded re- 
buke is the only instance on record of any reproachful words 
between the poet and the painter ; and we are happy to find that 
it did not destroy the harmony of their intercourse. 







TOIL WITHOUT HOPE. 353 



CHAPTER XLIII. 

Toil without hope. — The Poet in the green-room — in the flower garden— 
at Vauxhall — dissipation without gayety. — Cradock m town — friendly 
sympathy — a parting scene — an invitation to pleasure. 

Thwarted in the plans and disappointed in the hopes which had 
recently cheered and animated him, Groldsmith found the labor 
at his half-finished tasks doubly irksome from the consciousness 
that the completion of them could not relieve him from his 
pecuniary embarrassments. His impaired health, also, rendered 
him less capable than formerly of sedentary application, and con- 
tinual perplexities disturbed the flow of thought necessary for 
original composition. He lost his usual gayety and good-humor, 
and became, at times, peevish and irritable. Too proud of spirit 
to seek sympathy or relief from his friends, for the pecuniary 
difficulties he had brought upon himself by his errors and extra- 
vagance ; and unwilling, perhaps, to make known their amount, 
he buried his cares and anxieties in his own bosom, and endea- 
vored in company to keep up his usual air of gayety and uncon- 
cern. This gave his conduct an appearance of fitfulness and 
caprice, varying suddenly from moodiness to mirth, and from 
silent gravity to shallow laughter ; causing surprise and ridicule 
in those who were not aware of the sickness of heart which lay 
beneath. 



354 OLIVER, GOLDSMITH. 



His poetical reputation, too, was sometimes a disadvantage 
to him ; it drew upon him a notoriety which he was not always 
in the mood or the vein to act up to. " Good heavens, Mr. 
Foote," exclaimed an actress at the Haymarket theatre, " what a 
humdrum kind of man Dr. Goldsmith appears in our green-room 
compared with the figure he makes in his poetry !" " The reason 
of that, madam," replied Foote, " is because the muses are better 
company than the players." 

Beauclerc's letters to his friend. Lord Charlemont, who was 
absent in Ireland, give us now and then an indication of the 
whereabout of the poet during the present year. " I have been 
but once to the club since you left England," writes he ; " we 
were entertained, as usual, with Goldsmith's absurdity." With 
Beauclere every thing was absurd that was not polished and 
pointed. In another letter he threatens, unless Lord Charle- 
mont returns to England, to bring over the whole club, and let 
them loose upon him to drive him home by their peculiar habits 
of annoyance — Johnson shall spoil his books ; Goldsmith shall 
;pull his flowers ; and last, and most intolerable of all, Boswell 
shall — talk to him. It would appear that the poet, who had a 
passion for flowers, was apt to pass much of his time in the 
garden when on a visit to a country seat, much to the detriment 
of the flower-beds and the despair of the gardener. 

The summer wore heavily away with Goldsmith. He had 
not his usual solace of a country retreat ; his health was impaired 
and his spirits depressed. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who perceived 
the state of his mind, kindly gave him much of his company. In 
the course of their interchange of thought. Goldsmith suggested 
to him the story of Ugolino, as a subject for his pencil. The 
painting founded on it remains a memento of their friendship. 



DISSIPATION WITHOUT GAYETY. 355 



On the 4th of August we find them together at Vauxhall ; 
at that time a place in high vogue, and which had once been to 
Goldsmith a scene of oriental splendor and delight. We have, 
in fact, in the Citizen of the World, a picture of it as it had struck 
him in former years and in his happier moods. " Upon entering 
the gardens," says the Chinese philosopher, " I found every sense 
occupied with more than expected pleasure ; the lights every 
where glimmering through the scarcely-moving trees ; the full- 
bodied concert bursting on the stillness of the night ; the natural 
concert of the birds in the more retired part of the grove, vieing 
with that which was formed by art ; the company gayly dressed, 
looking satisfaction, and the tables spread with various delicacies, 
all conspired to fill my imagination with the visionary happiness 
of the Arabian lawgiver, and lifted me into an ecstasy of admira- 
tion."* 

Every thing now, however, is seen with different eyes ; with 
him it is dissipation without pleasure ; and he finds it impossible 
any longer, by mingling in the gay and giddy throng of apparently 
prosperous and happy beings, to escape from the carking care 
which is clinging to his heart. 

His kind friend, Cradock, came up to town towards autumn, 
when all the fashionable world was in the country, to give his 
wife the benefit of a skilful dentist. He took lodgings in Nor- 
folk-street, to be in Goldsmith's neighborhood, and passed most 
of his mornings with him. " I found him," he says, " much 
altered and at times very low. He wished me to look over and 
revise some of his works ; but, with a select friend or two, I was 
more pressing that he should publish by subscription his two 
celebrated poems of the Traveller and the Deserted Village, with 

* Citizen of the World. Let. LXXI. 



356 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



notes." The idea of Cradock was, that the subscription would 
enable wealthy persons, favorable to Goldsmith, to contribute to 
his pecuniary relief without wounding his pride. " Groldsmith," 
said he, " readily gave up to me his private copies, and said, ' Pray 
do what you please with them.' But whilst he sat near me, he 
rather submitted to than encouraged my zealous proceedings. 

" I one morning called upon him, however, and found him 
infinitely better than I had expected ; and, in a kind of exulting 
style, he exclaimed, ' Here are some of the best of my prose writ- 
ings ; I have been hard at work since midnight^ and I desire you 
to examine them.' ' These,' said I, ' are excellent indeed.' ' They 
are,' replied he, ' intended as an introduction to a body of arts 
and sciences.' " 

Poor Groldsmith was, in fact, gathering together the frag- 
ments of his shipwreck ; the notes and essays, and memoranda 
collected for his dictionary, and proposed to found on them a 
work in two volumes, to be entitled " A Survey of Experimental 
Philosophy." 

The plan of the subscription came to nothing, and the pro- 
jected survey never was executed. The head might yet devise, 
but the heart was failing him ; his talent at hoping, which gave 
him buoyancy to carry out his enterprises, was almost at an end. 

Cradock's farewell scene with him is told in a simple but touch- 
ing manner. 

" The day before I was to set out for Leicestershire, I insisted 
upon his dining with us. He replied, ' I will, but on one condi- 
tion, that you will not ask me to eat any thing.' ' Nay,' said I, 
' this answer is absolutely unkind, for I had hoped, as we are 
supplied from the Crown and Anchor, that you would have named 
something you might have relished.' 'Well,' was the reply, 'if 



A PARTING SCENE. 357 



you will but explain it to Mrs. Cradock, I will certainly wait 
upon you.' 

" The doctor found, as usual, at my apartments, newspapers 
and pamphlets, and with a pen and ink he amused himself as well 
as he could. I had ordered from the tavern some fish, a roasted 
joint of lamb, and a tart ; and the doctor either sat down or 
walked about just as he pleased. After dinner he took some 
wine with biscuits ; but I was obliged soon to leave him for a while, 
as I liad matters to settle prior to my next day's journey. On my 
return coffee was ready, and the doctor appeared more cheerful 
(for Mrs. Cradock was always rather a favorite with him), and in 
the evening he endeavored to talk and remark as usual, but all 
was force. He stayed till midnight, and I insisted on seeing him 
safe home, and we most cordially shook hands at the Temple gate." 
Cradock little thought that this vjjas to be their final parting. 
He looked back to it with mournful recollections in after years, 
and lamented that he had not remained longer in town at every 
inconvenience, to solace the poor broken-spirited poet. 

The latter continued in town all the autumn. At the open- 
ing of the Opera House, on the 20th of November, Mrs. Yates, 
an actress whom he held in great esteem, delivered a poetical 
exordium of his composition. Beauclerc, in a letter to Lord 
Charlemont, pronounced it very good, and predicted that it would 
soon be in all the papers. It does not appear, however, to have 
been ever published. In his fitful state of mind Groldsmith may 
have taken no care about it, and thus it has been lost to the 
world, although it was received with great applause by a crowded 
and brilliant audience. 

A gleam of sunshine breaks through the gloom that was ga- 
thering over the poet. Towards the end of the year he receives 



358 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



another Christmas invitation to Barton. A country Christmas ! 
with all the cordiality of the fireside circle, and the joyous revelry 
of the oaken hall — what a contrast to the loneliness of a bache- 
lor's chambers in the Temple ! It is not to be resisted. But 
how is poor Goldsmith to raise the ways and means ? His purse 
is empty ; his booksellers are already in advance to him. As a 
last resource, he applies to Grarrick. Their mutual intimacy at 
Barton may have suggested him as an alternative. The old loan 
of forty pounds has never been paid ; and Newbery's note, pledged 
as a security, has never been taken up. An additional loan of 
sixty pounds is now asked for, thus increasing the loan to one 
hundred ; to insure the payment, he now offers, besides New- 
bery's note, the transfer of the comedy of the Grood-natured Man 
to Drury Lane, with such alterations as Garrick may suggest. 
Garrick, in reply, evades thq. offer of the altered comedy, alludes 
significantly to a new one which Goldsmith had talked of writing 
for him, and offers to furnish the money required on his own 
acceptance. 

The reply of Goldsmith bespeaks a heart brimful of gratitude 
and overflowing with fond anticipations of Barton and the smiles 
of its fair residents. " My dear friend," writes he, " I thank you. 
I wish I could do something to serve you. I shall have a comedy 
for you in a season, or two at farthest, that I believe will be 
worth your acceptance, for I fancy I will make it a fine thing. 
You shall have the refusal. * * * * I -will draw upon you 
one month after date for sixty pounds, and your acceptance will 
be ready money, part of which I want to go down to Barton ivith. 
May God preserve my honest little man, for he has my heart. 
Ever, " Oliver Goldsmith." 



CHRISTMAS AT BARTON. 359 



And having thus scrambled together a little pocket-money, by 
hard contrivance, poor Goldsmith turns his back upon care and 
trouble, and Temple quarters, to forget for a time his desolate 
bachelorhood in the family circle and a Christmas fireside at 
Barton. 



-yd 

360 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



CHAPTER XLIY. 

A return to drudgery — forced gayety — retreat to the country — the poem of 
Retaliation. — Portrait of Garrick — of Goldsmith — of Reynolds. — Illness of 
the Poet — his death — grief of his friends. — A last word respecting the 
Jessamy Bride. 

The Barton festivities are over ; Christmas, with ail its home- 
felt revelry of the heart, has passed like a dream ; the Jessamy 
Bride has beamed her last smile upon the poor poet, and the 
early part of 1774 finds him in his now dreary bachelor abode in 
the Temple, toiling fitfully and hopelessly at a multiplicity of 
tasks. His Animated Nature, so long delayed, so often inter- 
rupted, is at length announced for publication, though it has yet 
to receive a few finishing touches. He is preparing a third His- 
tory of England, to be compressed and condensed in one volume, 
for the use of schools. He is revising his Inquiry into Polite 
Learning, for which he receives the pittance of five guineas, much 
needed in his present scantiness of purse ; he is arranging his 
Survey of Experimental Philosophy, and he is translating the 
Comic Romance of Scarron. Such is a part of the various 
labors of a drudging, depressing kind, by which his head is 
made weary and his heart faint. " If there is a mental drudg- 
ery," says Sir Walter Scott, " which lowers the spirits and lace- 
rates the nerves, like the toil of a slave, it is that which is exacted 



FORCED GAYETY. 361 



by literary composition, when the heart is not in unison with the 
work upon which the head is employed. Add to the unhappy 
author's task sickness, sorrow, or the pressure of unfavorable cir- 
cumstances, and the labor of the bondsman becomes light in 
comparison." Goldsmith again makes an eiFort to rally his 
spirits by going into gay society. " Our club," writes Beau 
clerc to Charlemont, on the 12th of February, " has dwin- 
dled away to nothing. Sir Joshua and Goldsmith have got into 
such a round of pleasures that they have no time." This shows 
how little Beauclerc was the companion of the poet's mind, or 
could judge of him below the surface. Reynolds, the kind parti- 
cipator in joyless dissipation, could have told a different story of 
his companion's heart-sick gayety. 

In this forced mood Goldsmith gave entertainments in his 
chambers in the Temple ; the last of which was a dinner to John- 
son, Reynolds, and others of his intimates, who partook with 
sorrow and reluctance of his imprudent hospitality. The first 
course vexed them by its needless profusion. When a second, 
equally extravagant, was served up, Johnson and Reynolds de- 
clined to partake of it ; the rest of the company, understanding 
their motives, followed their example, and the dishes went from 
the table untasted. Goldsmith felt sensibly this silent and well- 
intended rebuke. 

The gayeties of society, however, cannot medicine for any 
length of time a mind diseased. Wearied by the distractions and 
harassed by the expenses of a town life, which he had not the 
discretion to regulate. Goldsmith took the resolution too tardily 
adopted, of retiring to the serene quiet, and cheap and health- 
ful pleasures of the country, and of passing only two months of 
the year in London. He accordingly made arrangements to sell 

16 



362 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



his right in the Temple chambers, and in the month of March 
retired to his country quarters at Hyde, there to devote himself 
to toil. At this dispirited juncture when inspiration seemed to 
be at an end, and the poetic fire extinguished, a spark fell on his 
combustible imagination and set it in a blaze. 

He belonged to a temporary association of men of talent, 
some of them members of the Literary Club, who dined together 
occasionally at the St. James's Coffee-house. At these dinners, 
as usual, he was one of the last to arrive. On one occasion, 
when he was more dilatory than usual, a whim seized the com- 
pany to write epitaphs on him, as " The late Dr. Goldsmith," and 
several were thrown off in a playful vein, hitting off his pecu- 
liarities. The only one extant was written by Grarrick, and has 
been preserved, very probably, by its pungency : 

" Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, 
Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor poll." 

Groldsmith did not relish the sarcasm, especially as coming 
from such a quarter. He was not very ready at repartee ; but 
he took his time, and in the interval of his various tasks, con- 
cocted a series of epigrammatic sketches, under the title of 
Retaliation, in which the characters of his distinguished inti- 
mates were admirably hit off, with a mixture of generous praise 
and good-humored raillery. In fact the poem for its graphic 
truth ; its nice discrimination ; its terse good sense, and its 
shrewd knowledge of the world, must have electrified the club 
almost as much as the first appearance of The Traveller, and let 
them still deeper into the character and talents of the man they 
had been accustomed to consider as their butt. Retaliation, in 



DAVID GARRICK. 363 



a word, closed his accounts with the club, and balanced all hia 
previous deficiencies. 

The portrait of David Garrick, is one of the most elaborate 
in the poem. When the poet came to touch it off, he had some 
lurking piques to gratify, which the recent attack had revived. 
He may have forgotten David's cavalier treatment of him, in the 
early days of his comparative obscurity ; he may have forgiven 
his refusal of his plays ; but Garrick had been capricious in his 
conduct in the times of their recent intercourse : sometimes 
treating him with gross familiarity, at other times affecting dig- 
nity and reserve, and assuming airs of superiority ; frequently 
he had been facetious and witty in company at his expense, and 
lastly he had been guilty of the couplet just quoted. Goldsmith, 
therefore, touched off the lights and shadows of his character 
with a free hand, and, at the same time, gave a side hit at his old 
rival, Kelly, and his critical persecutor, Kenrick, in making them 
sycophantic satellites of the actor. Goldsmith, however, was 
void of gall even in his revenge, and his very satire was more 
humorous than caustic : 

*' Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can. 
An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man ; 
As an actor, confess'd without rival to shine ; 
As a wit, if not first, in the very first line : 
Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart. 
The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. 
Like an ill-judging beauty, his colors he spread, 
And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red. 
On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting ; 
'Twas only that when he was off he was acting. 
With no reason on earth to go out of his way. 
He turn'd and he varied fiill ten times a day : 



364 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick 

If they were not his own by finessing and trick : 

He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, 

For he knew, when he pleased, he could whistle them back. 

Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came. 

And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame ; 

Till his relish, grown callous almost to disease. 

Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. 

But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, 

If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. 

Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave. 

What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gave ! 

How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you raised. 

While he was be-Rosciused and you were be-praised ! 

But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies. 

To act as an angel and mix with the skies : 

Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill. 

Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will ; 

Old Shakspeare receive him with praise and vsdth love. 

And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above." 

This portion of Retaliation soon brought a retort from Gar- 
rick, which we insert, as giving something of a likeness of Grold- 
smith, though in broad caricature : 

" Here, Hermes, says Jove, who with nectar was mellow. 
Go fetch me some clay — I will make an odd fellow : 
Right and wrong shall be jumbled, much gold and some dross. 
Without cause be he pleased, vnthout cause be he cross ; 
Be sure, as I work, to throw in contradictions, 
A great love of truth, yet a mind turn'd to fictions ; 
Now mix these ingredients, which, warm'd in the baking, 
Turn'd to learning and gaming, religion and raking. 



CARD-PLAYING. 365 



With the love of a wench let his writings be chaste ; 

Tip his tongue with strange matter, his lips with fine taste ; 

That the rake and the poet o'er all may prevail. 

Set fire to the head and set fire to the tail ; 

For the joy of each sex on the world I'll bestow it, 

This scholar, rake, Christian, dupe, gamester, and poet. 

Though a mixture so odd, he shall merit great fame. 

And among brother mortals be Goldsmith his name ; 

When on earth this strange meteor no more shall appear, 

You, Hermes, shall fetch him, to make us sport here." 

The charge of raking, so repeatedly advanced in the foregoing 
lines, must be considered a sportive one, founded, pex-haps, on an 
incident or two within G-arrick's knowledge, but not boi'ne out 
by the course of Goldsmith's life. He seems to have had a ten- 
der sentiment for the sex, but perfectly free from libertinism. 
Neither was he an habitual gamester. The strictest scrutiny 
has detected no settled vice of the kind. He was fond of a game 
of cards, but an unskilful and careless player. Cards in those 
days were universally introduced into society. High play was, 
in fact, a fashionable amusement, as at one time was deep drink- 
ing ; and a man might occasionally lose large sums, and be be- 
guiled into deep potations, without incurring the character of a 
gamester or a drunkard. Poor Goldsmith, on his advent into 
high society, assumed fine notions with fine clothes ; he was 
thrown occasionally among high players, men of fortune who 
could sport their cool hundreds as carelessly as his early com- 
rades at Ballymahon could their half-crowns. Being at all 
times magnificent in money matters, he may have played with 
them in their own way, without considering that what was sport 
to them to him was ruin. Indeed part of his financial embar- 



S66 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



rassments may have arisen from losses of the kind, incurred in- 
advertently, not in the indulgence of a habit. " I do not believe 
Goldsmith to have deserved the name of gamester," said one of 
his contemporaries ; " he liked cards very well, as other people do, 
and lost and won occasionally ; but as far as I saw or heard, and 
I had many opportunities of hearing, never any considerable sum. 
If he gamed with any one, it was probably with Beauclerc, but I 
do noi. know that such was the case." 

Retaliation, as we have already observed, was thrown off in 
parts, at intervals, and was never completed. Some characters, 
originally intended to be introduced, remained unattempted; others 
were but partially sketched — such was the one of Reynolds, the 
friend of his heart, and which he commenced with a felicity which 
makes us regret that it should remain unfinished. 

" Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, 
He has not left a wiser or better behind. 
His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; 
His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; 
Still born to improve us in every part. 
His pencil our faces, his manners our heart. 
To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering. 
When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing: 
When they talked of their Raphaels, Corregios, and stuff. 
He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff. 
By flattery unspoiled" 

The friendly portrait stood unfinished on the easel ; the hand 
of the artist had failed ! An access of a local complaint, under 
which he had suffered for some time past, added to a general 
prostration of health, brought Goldsmith back to town before he 
had well settled himself in the country. The local complaint 



HIS DEATH. 367. 



subsided, but was followed by a low nervous fever. He was not 
aware of his critical situation, and intended to be at the club on 
the 25th of March, on which occasion Charles Fox, Sir Charles 
Bunbury (one of the Horneck connection), and two other new 
members were to be present. In the afternoon, however, he felt 
so unwell as to take to his bed, and his symptoms soon acquired 
sufficient force to keep him there. His malady fluctuated for 
several days, and hopes were entertained of his recovery, but they 
proved fallacious. He had skilful medical aid and faithful nurs- 
ing, but he would not follow the advice of his physicians, and 
persisted in the use of James's powders, which he had once found 
beneficial, but which were now injurious to him. His appetite 
was gone, his strength failed him, but his mind remained clear, 
and was perhaps too active for his frame. Anxieties and disap- 
pointments which had previously sapped his constitution, doubt- 
less aggravated his present complaint and rendered him sleepless. 
In reply to an inquiry of his physician, he acknowledged that his 
mind was ill at ease. This was his last reply : he was too weak 
to talk, and in general took no notice of what was said to him. 
He sank at last into a deep sleep, and it was hoped a favorable 
crisis had arrived. He awoke, however, in strong convulsions, 
which continued without intermission until he expired, on the 
fourth of April, at five o'clock in the morning; being in the 
forty-sixth year of his age. 

His death was a shock to the literary world, and a deep 
affliction to a wide circle of intimates and friends ; for, with all 
his foibles and peculiarities, he was fully as much beloved as he 
was admired. Burke, on hearing the news, burst into tears. 
Sir Joshua Reynolds threw by his pencil for the day, and 
grieved more than he had done in times of great family dis- 



368 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



tress. " I was abroad at the time of his death," writes Dr. M'Don- 
nell, the youth whom when in distress he had employed as an 
amanuensis, " and I wept bitterly when the intelligence first 
reached me. A blank came over my heart as if I had lost one 
of my nearest relatives, and was followed for some days by a 
feeling of despondency." Johnson felt the blow deeply and 
gloomily. In writing some time afterwards to Boswell, he ob- 
served, " Of poor Dr. Goldsmith there is little to be told more 
than the papers have made public. He died of a fever, made, 
I am afraid, more violent by uneasiness of mind. His debts 
began to be heavy, and all his resources were exhausted. Sir 
Joshua is of opinion that he owed no less than two thousand 
pounds. Was ever poet so trusted before?" 

Among his debts were seventy-nine pounds due to his tailor, 
Mr. William Filby, from whom he had received a new suit but a 
few days before his death. " My father," said the younger 
Filby, " though a loser to that amount, attributed no blame to 
Groldsmith ; he had been a good customer, and had he lived, 
would have paid every farthing." Others of his tradespeople 
evinced the same confidence in his integrity, notwithstanding his 
heedlessness. Two sister milliners in Temple Lane, who had 
been accustomed to deal with him, were concerned when told, 
aome time before his death, of his pecuniary embarrassments. 
" Oh, sir," said they to Mr. Cradock, " sooner persuade him to 
let us work for him gratis than apply to any other ; we are sure 
he will pay us when he can." 

On the stairs of his apartment there was the lamentation of 
the old and infirm, and the sobbing of women ; poor objects of 
his charity, to whom he had never turned a deaf ear, even when 
struggling himself with poverty. 



THE JESSAMY BRIDE. 369 



But there was one mournei", whose enthusiasm for his memory, 
could it have been foreseen, might have soothed the bitterness 
of death. After the coffin had been screwed down, a lock of his 
hair was requested for a lady, a particular friend, who wished 
to preserve it as a remembrance. It was the beautiful Mary 
Horneck — the Jessamy Bride. The coffin was opened again, 
and a lock of hair cut off ; which she treasured to her dying day. 
Poor Goldsmith ! could he have foreseen that such a memorial 
of him was to be thus cherished ! 

One word more concerning this lady, to whom we have so 
often ventured to advert. She survived almost to the pres- 
ent day. Hazlitt met her at Northcote's painting-room, about 
twenty years since, as Mrs. Grwyn, the widow of a General Gwyn 
of the army. She was at that time upwards of seventy years of 
age. Still, he said, she was beautiful, beautiful even in years. 
After she was gone, Hazlitt remarked how handsome she still 
was. " I do not know," said Northcote, " why she is so kind as 
to come to see me, except that I am the last link in the chain 
that connects her with all those she most esteemed when young — 
Johnson, Reynolds, Goldsmith — and remind her of the most 
delightful period of her life." " Not only so," observed Hazlitt, 
" but you remember what she was at twenty ; and you thus 
bring back to her the triumphs of her youth — that pride of 
beauty, which must be the more fondly cherished as it has no 
external vouchers, and lives chiefly in the bosom of its once 
lovely possessor. In her, however, the Graces had triumphed 
over time ; she was one of Ninon de I'Enclos's people, of the last 
of the immortals. I could almost fancy the shade of Goldsmith 
in the room, looking round with complacency." 



16* 



370 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



The Jessamy Bride survived her sister upwards of forty 
years, and died in 1840, within a few days of completing her 
eighty-eighth year. " She had gone through all the stages of 
life," says Northcote, " and had lent a grace to each." However 
gayly she may have sported with the half-concealed admiration 
of the poor awkward poet in the heyday of her youth and 
beauty, and however much it may have been made a subject of 
teasing by her youthful companions, she evidently prided herself 
in after years upon having been an object of his affectionate 
regard ; it certainly rendered her interesting throughout life 
in the eyes of his admirers, and has hung a poetical wreath 
above her grave. 



THE FUNERAL. 371 



CHAPTER XLV. 

The funeral. — The monument. — The epitaph. — Concluding remarks. 

In the warm feeling of the moment, while the remains of the 
poet were scarce cold, it was determined by his friends to honor 
them by a public funeral and a tomb in Westminster Abbey. 
His very pall-bearers were designated : Lord Shelburne, Lord 
Lowth, Sir Joshua Reynolds ; the Hon. Mr. Beauclerc, Mr. 
Burke, and David Garrick. This feeling cooled down, however, 
when it was discovered that he died in debt, and had not left 
wherewithal to pay for such expensive obsequies. Five days 
after his death, therefore, at five o'clock of Saturday evening, 
the 9th of April, he was privately interred in the burying- 
ground of the Temple Church ; a few persons attending as 
mourners, among whom we do not find specified any of his pecu- 
liar and distinguished friends. The chief mourner was Sir 
Joshua Reynolds's nephew. Palmer, afterwards Dean of Cashel. 
One person, however, from whom it was but little to be expected, 
attended the funeral and evinced real sorrow on the occasion. 
This was Hugh Kelly, once the dramatic rival of the deceased, 
and often, it is said, his anonymous assailant in the newspapers. 



372 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



If he had really been guilty of this basest of literary offences, 
he was punished by the stings of remorse, for we are told that 
he shed bitter tears over the grave of the man he had injured. 
His tardy atonement only provoked the lash of some unknown 
satirist, as the following lines will show : 

" Hence Kelly, who years, without honor or shame. 
Had been sticking his bodkin in Oliver's fame. 
Who thought, like the Tartar, by this to inherit 
His genius, his learning, simplicity, spirit ; 
Now sets every feature to weep o'er his fate. 
And acts as a mourner to blubber in state." 

One base wretch deserves to be mentioned, the reptile Ken- 
rick, who, after having repeatedly slandered Goldsmith, while 
living, had the audacity to insult his memory when dead. The 
following distich is sulficient to show his malignancy, and to hold 
him up to execration : 

" By his own art, who justly died, 
A blund'ring, artless suicide : 
Share, earthworms, share, since now he's dead. 
His megrim, maggot-bitten head." 

This scurrilous epitaph produced a burst of public indig- 
nation, that awed for a time even the infamous Kenrick into 
silence. On the other hand, the press teemed with tributes in 
verse and prose to the memory of the deceased ; all evincing the 
mingled feeling of admiration for the author and affection for the 



THE EPITAPH. . 373 



Not long after his death the Literary Club set on foot a sub- 
scription, and raised a fund to erect a monument to his memory, 
in Westminster Abbey. It was executed by Nollekens, and con- 
sisted simply of a bust of the poet in profile, in high relief, in a 
medallion, and was placed in the area of a pointed arch, over the 
south door in Poet's Corner, between the monuments of Gay and 
the Duke of Argyle. Johnson furnished a Latin epitaph, which 
was read at the table of Sir Joshua Reynolds, where several 
members of the club and other friends of the deceased were pre- 
sent. Though considered by them a masterly composition, they 
thought the literary character of the poet not defined with suffi- 
cient exactness, and they preferred that the epitaph should be in 
English rather than Latin, as " the memory of so eminent an Eng- 
lish writer ought to be perpetuated in the language to which his 
works were likely to be so lasting an ornament." 

These objections were reduced to writing, to be respectfully 
submitted to Johnson, but such was the awe entertained of his 
frown, that every one shrank from putting his name first to the 
instrument ; whereupon their names were written about it in a 
circle, making what mutinous sailors call a Round Robin. John- 
son received it half graciously half grimly. " He was willing," he 
said, " to modify the sense of the epitaph in any manner the gen- 
tlemen pleased ; hut lie never ivoulcl consent to disgrace the ivalls 
of Westminster Abbey with an English inscription?'' Seeing the 
names of Dr. Warton and Edmund Burke among the signers, 
'• he wondered," he said, " that Joe Warton, a scholar by pro- 
fession, should be such a fool ; and should have thought that 
Mund Burke would have had more sense." The following is the 
epitaph as it stands inscribed on a white marble tablet beneath the 
bust : 



374 ' OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



« OLIVARII GOLDSMITH, 

Poetae, Physici, Historici, 
Qui nullum ferfe scribendi genus 

Non tetigit, -*"' 

Nullum quod tetigit non omavit : 
Sive risus essent movendi, 
Sive laciymse, 
Affectuum potens at lenis dominator : 
Ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis, 
Oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus : 
Hoc monumento memoriam coluit 
Sodalium amor, 
Amicorum fides, 
Lectorum veneratio. 
Natus in Hibernia, Forniee Longfordiensis, 
In loco cui nomen Pallas, 
Nov. XXIX. MDCcxxxi. ; 
EblansB Uteris institutus; 
Obiit Londini, 
April IV. MDCCLXxiv."* 

We shall not pretend to follow these anecdotes of the life of 
Goldsmith with any critical dissertation on his writings ; their 



* The following translation is fi-om Croker's edition of 'Boswell's Johnson : 
OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH— 

A Poet, Naturalist, aad Historian, 

Who left scarcely any style of writing 

untouched. 

And touched nothing that he did not adorn ; 

Of all the passions. 

Whether smiles were to be moved 

or tears, 

A powerful yet gentle master ; 

In genius, sublime, vivid, versatile, 



CONCLUDING REMARKS. 375 



merits have long since been fully discussed, and their station iu 
the scale of literary merit permanently established. They have 
outlasted generations of works of higher power and wider scope, 
and will continue to outlast succeeding generations, for they have 
that magic charm of style by which works are embalmed to per- 
petuity. Neither shall we attempt a regular analysis of the 
character of the poet, but will indulge in a few desultory remarks 
in addition to those scattered throughout the preceding chapters. 
Never was the trite, because sage apothegm, that " The child 
is father to the man," more fully verified than in the case of 
Goldsmith. He is shy, awkward, and blundering in childhood, 
yet full of sensibility ; he is a butt for the jeers and jokes of his 
companions, but apt to surprise and confound them by sudden 
and witty repartees ; he is dull and stupid at his tasks, yet an 
eager and intelligent devourer of the travelling tales and cam- 
paigning stories of his half military pedagogue ; he may be a 
dunce, but he is already a rhymer ; and his early scintillations 
of poetry awaken the expectations of his friends. He seems from 
infancy to have been compounded of two natures, one bright, the 
other blundering ; or to have had fairy gifts laid in his cradle 



In style, elevated, clear, elegant — 

The love of companions, 

The fidelity of friends, 

And the veneration of readers. 

Have by this monument honored the memory. 

He was bom in Ireland, 

At a place called Pallas, 

[In the parish] of Forney, [and county] of Longford, 

On the 29th Nov., 1731, 

Educated at [the University of] Dublin, 

And died in London, 

4th April, 1774. 



376 OLrVER GOLDSMITH. 



by the " good people" who haunted his birth-place, the old goblin 
mansion on the banks of the Inny. 

He carries with him the wayward elfin spirit, if we may so 
term it, throughout his career. His fairy gifts are of no avail at 
school, academy, or college : they unfit him for close study and 
practical science, and render him heedless of every thing that 
does not address itself to his poetical imagination and genial and 
festive feelings ; they dispose him to break away from restraint, 
to stroll about hedges, green lanes, and haunted' streams, to revel 
with jovial companions, or to rove the country like a gipsy in 
quest of odd adventures. 

As if confiding in these delusive gifts, he takes no heed of the 
present nor care for the future, lays no regular and solid founda- 
tion of knowledge, follows out no plan, adopts and discards those 
recommended by his friends, at one time prepares for the mi- 
nistry, next turns to the law, aiid then fixes upon medicine. He 
repairs to Edinburgh, the great emporium of medical science, but 
the fairy gifts accompany him ; he idles and frolics away his time 
there, imbibing only such knowledge as is agreeable to him ; 
makes an excursion to the poetical regions of the Highlands ; and 
having walked the hospitals for the customary time, sets off to 
ramble over the Continent, in quest of novelty rather than know- 
ledge. His whole tour is a poetical one. He fancies he is play- 
ing the philosopher while he is really playing the poet; and 
though professedly he attends lectures and visits foreign univer- 
sities, so deficient is he on his return, in the studies for which he 
set out, that he fails in an examination as a surgeon's mate ; and 
while figuring as a doctor of medicine, is outvied on a point of 
practice by his apothecary. Baffled in every regular pursuit, 
after trying in vain some of the humbler callings of commonplace 



CONCLUDING REMARKS. 377 



life, lie is driven almost by chance to the exercise of his pen, and 
here the fairy gifts come to his assistance. For a long time, how- 
ever, he seems unaware of the magic properties of that pen : he 
uses it only as a make-shift until he can find a legitimate means 
of support. He is not a learned man, and can write but mea- 
gerly and at second-hand on learned subjects ; but he has a quick 
convertible talent that seizes lightly on the points of knowledge 
necessary to the illustration of a theme : his writings for a time 
are desultory, the fruits of what he has seen and felt, or what he 
has recently and hastily read ; but his gifted pen transmutes 
every thing into gold, and his own genial nature reflects its sun- 
shine through his pages. 

Still unaware of his powers he throws off his writings anony- 
mously, to go with the writings of less favored men ; and it is a 
long time, and after a bitter struggle with poverty and humilia- 
tion, before he acquires confidence in his literary talent as a 
means of support, and begins to dream of reputation. 

From this time his pen is a wand of power in his hand, and 
he has only to use it discreetly, to make it competent to all his 
wants. But discretion is not a part of Goldsmith's nature ; and 
it seems the property of these fairy gifts to be accompanied by 
moods and temperaments to render their efi"ect precarious. The 
heedlessness of his early days ; his disposition for social enjoy- 
ment ; his habit of throwing the present on the neck of the 
future, still continue. His expenses forerun his means ; he in- 
curs debts on the faith of what his magic pen is to produce, and 
then, under the pressure of his debts, sacrifices its productions 
for prices far below their value. It is a redeeming cirumstance 
in his prodigality, that it is lavished oftener upon others than 
upon himself: he gives without thought or stint, and is the con- 



37§ OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



tinual dupe of his benevolence and his trustfulness in human 
nature. We may say of him as he says of one of his heroes, 
" He could not stifle the natural impulse which he had to do 
^od, hut frequently borrowed money to relieve the distressed ; 
and when he knew not conveniently where to borrow, he has 
been observed to shed tears as he passed through the wretched 
suppliants who attended his gate." ***** 

" His simplicity in trusting persons whom he had no previous 
reasons to place confidence in, seems to be one of those lights of 
his character which, while they impeach his understanding, do 
honor to his benevolence. The low and the timid are ever suspi- 
cious ; but a heart impressed with honorable sentiments, expects 
from others sympathetic sincerity."* 

His heedlessness in pecuniary matters, which had rendered 
his life a struggle with poverty even in the days of his obscurity, 
rendered the struggle still more intense when his fairy gifts Md 
elevated him into the society of the wealthy and luxurious, and 
imposed on his simple and generous spirit fancied obligations to 
a more ample and bounteous display. 

" How comes it," says a recent and ingenious critic, " that in 
all the miry paths of life which he had trod, no speck ever sul- 
lied the robe of his modest and graceful muse. How amidst all 
that love of inferior company, which never to the last forsook 
him, did he keep his genius so free from every touch of vul- 
garity ?" 

We answer that it was owing to the innate purity and good- 
ness of his nature ; there was nothing in it that assimilated to 
vice and vulgarity. Though his circumstances often compelled 
him to associate with the poor, they never could- betray him into 

* Goldsmith's Life of Nash. 



CONCLUDING REMARKS. 379 



companionship with the depraved. His relish for humor and for 
the study of character, as we have before observed, brought him 
often into convivial company of a vulgar kind ; but he discriminated 
between their vulgarity and their amusing qualities, or rather 
wrought from the whole those familiar pictures of life which 
form the staple of his most popular writings. 

Much, too, of this intact purity of heart may be ascribed to 
the lessons of his infancy under the paternal roof ; to the gentle, 
benevolent, elevated, unworldly maxims of his father, who 
" passing rich with forty pounds a year," infused a spirit into 
his child which riches could not deprave nor poverty degrade. 
Much of his boyhood, too, had been passed in the household of 
his uncle, the amiable and generous Contarine ; where he talked 
of literature with the good pastor, and practised music with his 
daughter, and delighted them both by his juvenile attempts at 
poetry. These early associations breathed a grace and refine- 
ment into his mind and tuned it up, after the rough sports on 
the green, or the frolics at the tavern. These led him to turn 
from the roaring glees of the club, to listen to the harp of 
his cousin Jane ; and from the rustic triumph of " throwing 
sledge," to a stroll with his flute along the pastoral banks of the 
Inny. 

The gentle spirit of his father walked with him through life, 
a pure and virtuous monitor ; and in all the vicissitudes of his 
career, we find him ever more chastened in mind by the sweet 
and holy recollections of the home of his infancy. 

It has been questioned whether he really had any religious 
feeling. Those who raise the question have never considered 
well his writings ; his Vicar of Wakefield, and his pictures of 
the Village Pastor, present religion under its most endearing 



380 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



forms, and with a feeling that could only flow from the deep 
convictions of the heart. When his fair travelling companions 
at Paris urged him to read the Church Service on a Sunday, he 
replied that " he was not worthy to do it." He had seen in early 
life the sacred ofl&ces performed by his father and his brother, 
with a solemnity which had sanctified them in his memory ; how 
could he presume to undertake such functions'? His religion 
has been called in question by Johnson and by Boswell : he cer- 
tainly had not the gloomy hypochondriacal piety of the one, 
nor the babbling mouth-piety of the other ; but the spirit of 
Christian charity, breathed forth in his writings and illustrated 
in his conduct, give us reason to believe he had the indwelling 
religion of the soul. 

"We have made sufficient comments in the preceding chapters 
on his conduct in elevated circles of literature and fashion. 
The fairy gifts which took him there, were not accompanied by 
the gifts and graces necessary to sustain him in that artificial 
sphere. He can neither play the learned sage with Johnson, 
nor the fine gentleman with Beauclerc : though he has a mind 
replete with wisdom and natural shrewdness, and a spirit free 
from vulgarity. The blunders of a fertile but hurried intellect, 
and the awkward display of the student assuming the man of 
fashion, fix on him a character for absurdity and vanity which, 
like the charge of lunacy, it is hard to disprove, however weak 
the grounds of the charge and strong the facts in opposition 
to it. 

In truth, he is never truly in his place in these learned and 
fashionable circles, which talk and live for display. It is not 
the kind of society he craves. His heart yearns for domestic 
life; it craves familiar, confiding intercourse, family firesides, 



CONCLUDING REMARKS. 381 



the guileless and happy company of children ; these bring out 
the heartiest and sweetest sympathies of his nature. 

" Had it been his fate," says the critic we have already quoted, 
" to meet a woman who could have loved him, despite his faults, 
and respected him despite his foibles, we cannot but think that 
his life and his genius would have been much more harmonious ; 
his desultory affections would have been concentred, his craving 
self-love appeased, his pursuits more settled, his character more 
solid. A nature like Goldsmith's, so affectionate, so confiding — 
so susceptible to simple, innocent enjoyments — so dependent on 
others for the sunshine of existence, does not flower if deprived 
of the atmosphere of home." 

The cravings of his heart in this respect are evident, we 
think, throughout his career ; and if we have dwelt with more 
significancy than others, upon his intercourse with the beauti- 
ful Horneck family, it is because we fancied we could detect, 
amid his playful attentions to one of its members, a lurking 
sentiment of tenderness, kept down by conscious poverty and a 
humiliating idea of personal defects. A hopeless feeling of this 
kind — the last a man would communicate to his friends — might 
account for much of that fitfulness of conduct, and that gathering 
melancholy, remarked, but not comprehended by his associates, 
during the last year or two of his life ; and may have been one 
of the troubles of the mind which aggravated his last illness, and 
only terminated with his death. 

We shall conclude these desultory remarks, with a few which 
have been used by us on a former occasion. From the general tone 
of Groldsmith's biography, it is evident that his faults, at the worst, 
were but negative, while his merits were great and decided. He 
was no one's enemy but his own ; his errors, in the main, inflicted 



382 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



evil on none but himself, and were so blended witb humorous, and 
even affecting circumstances, as to disarm anger and conciliate 
kindness. Where eminent talent is united to spotless virtue, we 
are awed and dazzled into admiration, but our admiration is apt to 
be cold and reverential ; while there is something in the harm- 
less infirmities of a good and great, but erring individual, that 
pleads touchingly to our nature ; and we turn more kindly 
towards the object of our idolatry, when we find that, like our- 
selves, he is mortal and is frail. The epithet so often heard, and 
in such kindly tones, of " poor Groldsmith," speaks volumes. Few, 
who consider the real compound of admirable and whimsical 
qualities which form his character, would wish to prune away its 
eccentricities, trim its grotesque luxuriance, and clip it down to 
the decent* formalities of rigid virtue. " Let not his frailties be 
remembered," said Johnson ; " he was a very great man." But, 
for our part, we rather say " Let them be remembered," since 
their tendency is to endear ; and we question whether he himself 
would not feel gratified in hearing his reader, after dwelling with 
admiration on the proofs of his greatness, close the volume with 
the kind-hearted phrase, so fondly and familiarly ejaculated, of 
" Poor Goldsmith." 



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losophical Apparatus, &c.. Free of Duty. Public Institutions of this description, wishing 
lo secure this advantage, will have their orders executed in a most satisfactory manner by for- 
warding them to G. P. Putnam direct. 

N. B.— CATALOGUES of New Books published in London, with CHEAP LISTS, &c., aia 
put up monthly in small packages, and forwarded gratis to all who may desire them. 

ORDERS FORWARDED BY EVERY STEAMER; 
and, if desired, and the books can be readily procured, they will be received by return steamer 

SUBSORIPTIONS RBCEIVBU FOR PERIODICALS, NEWSPAPERS, &C., PUBLISHED ABROAD. 

Lists supplied on application. 

% (0mrnl CntalngtrB 

OF A VERY EXTENSIVE COLLECTION OP 

STANOAPD WORKS IN EVERY DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE, SCIENCE & ART, 

INCLUDING FOREIGN AND AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS, 

Nearly Ready. 

It will be sent gratis on application. 

1 



tm Wmh~^hm rmhq or in preparation. 

Putnam's Library of American History / 

Consisting of Rare Tracts illustrative of American History. Edited, with 
Notes, &c., 

BY REV. F. L. HAWKS, D.D. 



VJie Optimist. 

BY H. T. TUCKERMAN, ESQ. 

In one volume l2mo. (In March.) 



1 New Worh on California. 

BY BAYARD TAYLOR, 

Author of "Views a-Foot," &c., &c. 
With Illustrations by the Author. In tvv^o volumes 12mo. 



.Yew Mesearches at Nineveh. 

BY AUSTEN HENRY LAYARD, ESQ. 

In one volume 8vo, uniform with " Nineveh and its Remains." 



.French and JEhglish Counting-House Manual. 

Manual of Commercial Correspondence, English and French ; or, A Selection 
of Commercial Phrases, taken from a number of Letters, Accounts, Cata- 
logues, Prices Current, and other Papers. 

BY A MERCHANT. 

In one volume l2mo, cloth. (Now ready.) 



Elements of Trigonometry.^ Plane and Splierical / 

Adapted to the present state of Analysis. To which is added, their applica- 
tion to the principles of Navigation, Surveying, Nautical Astronomy, and 
Geodesy. With Logarithmic, Trigonometrical, and Nautical Tables. 
For the use of Colleges and Academies. New Edition, greatly improved, 

BY REV. C. W. HACKLEY, 

Professor of Mathematics in Columbia College. New-York. 



Ex<ym'sions in JEhwope and the United States. 

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 

l2mo, cloth. (In April.) 
2 



Gt. P. PUTNAM'S ITEW PUBLICATIONS. 



CONTINUED. 

Egypt and its Monv/ments ; 

Or, Egypt a Witness for the Bible. 

BY FRANCIS L. HAWKS, D.D., LL.D., &c., &c. 

Illustrated with Engravings from the works of ChampoUion, Rosellini, Wil 
kinson, and others; and Architectural Views of the principal Temples, &c. 
1 vol. 8vo, uniform with " Layard's Nineveh," cloth, $2 50 ; half mor. 
gilt edges, $3 50. 

SECOND EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED. 

"It Wil. have a lively ir erest; not for the Bible student only, but for all who take ir.terest in 
histo:ical research." — A'. Y. Com. Advertiser. 

"A valuable contribution to our Sacred Literature." — Neicark Daihj Advertiser. 

" It supplies a desideratum in the Literature of the Bible." — Buffalo Co7nmercial. 

"An intellisihle, true, and readable book on Esypt, beyond what the experiences of a single 
traveller could furnish the materials of" — Boston Transcript. 

"The volume will constitute a valuable addition to Christian Literature." — N. Y. Recorder. 

"The volume of Dr. Hawks will be welcomed by many readers as a valuable contribution to 
the stock of information, hiiherto to be obtained only in the costly volumes of Wilkinson and 
others. There probably exists no other volume of the same size containing so much informatior 
on Egypt." — Cambridge Clironicle. 

" The volume is intensely interesting, and will abundantly repay a careful perusal." — Christian 
Alliance. 

" The entire work is filled with most instructive facts, gathered from recent discoveries in monu- 
mental literature, valuable alike to the theological student and general reader." — Universalis! 
Rcvitw. 

" In the treatment of this subject, Dr. Hawks's admirable faculty of lucid arrangement and dis 
tinct statement has-full play; and he proceeds, too, with a calm confidence of the strength of hi.i 
positions, that cannot fall to inspire his readers— such of them especially as have been somewhai 
startled by the bold assertions of the infidel school of Egyptologists and their train of ignoran- 
imitators — with. a similar confidence." — Methodist Quarterly Review. 



The East ; 

Or, Sketches of Travel in Egypt and the Holy Land. 

BY REV. J. A. SPENCER, M.A., 

Editor of '.he New Testament in Greek, with English Notes. Member of the New- York 
Historical Society, Sfc., ^"c. 

Splendidly Illustrated with Original Drawings. 8vo, pp. 500. Uniform wj 
" Layard's Nineveh," " Hawks's Monuments of Egypt," &c 

CONTENTS. 

EGYPT.— Alexandria.— Tlie Nile and the Pyramids. —The Pyramids and their Builders.— Life on 
the Nile.— Philae, Syene, Elephantine, Esneh.— Necropolis of Thebes.— Luxor and Karnak.— 
Dendera, Es-siout, Beni-hassan.— The Metropolis of Egypt.— Mosks, Citadel, HeliopoUa.— 
Coptic Church, Public Men and Events. 

THE HOLY LAND.— Life in the Desert.— Palestina, the Hill Country.— The Holy City.— Geth- 
semane, the Mount of Olives.- Calvary and the Holy Sepulchre.— Bethlehem and its Vicinity 
—The Dead Sea and the Jordaxi.- Judea, Samaria, Jacob's Well, Nabulus.— Sebaste, Tabor 
Tiberias, Nazareth.— Mount Carmel, St. Jean d' Acre, Tyre.— Sidon, Beirut and its Vicinity.— 
Appendix, Notes, &c. 



o. p. Putnam's new publications. 

€xmb, %hmkxm, ml ¥iMnnm—3u tliB fust. 

CONTINUED. 

Visits to Monasteries in the Levant. 

BY THE HON. ROBERT CURZON. 

One vol., post 8vo. Illustrated with 17 spirited Engravings. $1 50. 

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Monastery of Meteora, 
Interior of Greek Monastery, 
Koord, or Native of Koordistan. 
Negress wailing to tie suut, 
Bedouin Arab, 
Egyptian in Nizam Dress, 
hiterior of Abyssinian Library, 
Mendicant Dervish, 
Church of Holy Sepulchre, 
Monastery of St. Barlaam, 
Tartar, or Government Messenger, 
Turkish Common Soldier, 
Promontory of Mount Athos, 
Greek Sailor, 
Monastery of Simo-Petri, 
Circassian Lady, 
Turkish Lady. 

"A volume of more than onlinary interest, relating a series of most curious and often amusing 
Bdventures. • • • The field occupied by the volume is almost entirely nevr." — Commercial 
Advertiser. 

"A very curious and imique work. We recommend it to those who are fond of cheerful inci- 
dent of travel, through lands possessing the greatest interest." — Washington Union. 

" His wanderings in the I,evant extend over a period of nearly ten years, abounding in adven- 
tures, many of them attended wiih extreme peril, which are told with inimitable naivete and skill. 
* * * There is an elegance and picturesque simplicity in his language equally rare and delight- 
ful. The book is profusely illustrated by wood engravings in the highest style of art, executed in 
London. It is issued simultaneously with Murray's English edition, and the author receives his 
share of the profits arising from its sale here." — Tribune. 




Oriental Life IllMst/rated: 



Being a new Edition of " Eothen, or. Traces of Travel brought Home from 
the East." Illustrated with fine Steel Engravings, viz., Travelling in 
THE Desert, Luxor, Karnac, Nazareth, the Pyramids. 12mo, cloth, 
extra gilt, $1 50. 

' " Nothing so sparkling, so graphic, so truthful in sentiment, and so poetic in vein, has iaraed 
ttan the p:ess in many a day." — London Critic. 



'Jov/rney from Cornhill to Cairo. 

BY MICHAEL ANGELO TITMARSH. 

One vol. 12mo, green cloth, 50 cts. 

"It is wonderful what a description of people and things, what numerous pictures, what inn» 
toerable remarks and allusions it zoMaxaa."— Douglas Jerrold's Magazine. 

6 



O. p. PUTNA3l's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 



€umU, i^lkrnturrS; nut ¥munm—^n \^t d^ast. 

CONTINUED. 

Adventures in tlie Lyhian Desert^ 

And the Oasis of Jupiter Ammon. 
BY BAYLE ST. JOHN 

12mo, cloth, 75 cts, 

" It is a very graphic and amusing description of the scenery anc uitiqtitiea, and of the peopla 

whom he saw." — Washington Union. 

" Though written with an eye to antiquarian lore, there is no want of liveliness in the personal 
advenXures of (he author." — Albion. 

" A most interesting book." — N. Y. Recorder. 

" It will be read through by those who reach the middle of the first chapter." — Albani/ Journcu. 

" It is a spiiited description of the adventures of the author among the Bedouin Arabs." — Tn- 



Eotlien / 



Or, Traces of Travel brought Home from the East. 12mo, green cloth, 
50 cents. 

"Eothen is a book with which every body, fond of elegant prose and racy descriptioni abould he 
well acquainted." — U. S. Gazelle. 
" The best book of Eastern travels we know." — London Examiner. 



The Crescent and the Cross / 

Or, the Romance and Reality of Eastern Travel. 
BY ELLIOT WARBURTON. 

One vol, 12mo, green cloth, $1 25 

"This delightful work is, from first to last, a splendid Panorama of Eastern scenery, in th« taS 
blazs of its magnificence." — London Morning News. 

•A brilliant, poetic, and yet most instructive book."— .^. Y. Courier 4" JEnquirer. 



Tra/vels in Peru. 

BY DR. J. J. VON TSCHUDI. 

1 vol. 12mo, cloth, $1 00. 

" Braving the dangers of a land where throat-cutting is a popular pastime, and earthquakes and 
fevers more or less yellow, and vermin more or less venomous are amongst the indigenous com- 
forts of the aoil, a German, of high reputation as a naturalist and man of letters, has devoted four 
years of a life valuable to science to a residence and travels in the most interesting districts of 
South America, the ancient empire of the lucas, the scene of the conquests and cruellies of Fran 
•isco Pizarro." 

7 



G. P. PUTJSTAm's new PUBLICATIOlSra. 



IN THE WEST. 

California and Oregon Trail^ 

Being Sketches of Prairie and Rocky Mountain Life. 
BY FRANCIS PARKMAN, JR. 

With Illustrations by Darley. 12mo. cloth, $1 25. 

"Written with the genuine inspiration of untamed nature." — Tribune. 

"A lively and well written account of divers adventures on mountains and plains, deserts and 
rivers in the Indian Country." — Churchman. 

" A series of graphic and apparently reliable sketches." — Albion. 

" Agreeably designed and ably executed." — Home Journal. 

" One of the few books from which we can obtain any thing like accurate informal. ^n of the 
character of the country between the Mississippi and the Pacific. As descriptive of a race fast 
passing away, and of the wild and wonderful country from which they are perishing, and through 
which the march of civilization is lorcing its way, to the dazzling treasures of the Pacific borders, 
the work is attractive, and is got up in a style and character of most of the publications of Mr. 
Putnam. The cuts are very admirable specimens of the high perfection to wliich engraving on 
wood has arrived." — Democratic Review. 



Astoria; 

Or, Anecdotes of an Enterprise beyona the Rocky Mountains. 
BY WASHINGTON IRVING. 

With Map. 12mo. ^1 50. 

" A beautiful edition of Irving's highly graphic and stirring sketch of the early enterprises of 
John Jacob Astor, which will now be read with even more interest thein when first written." — 
Evangelist. 

" It is one of those rare works which belongs, by the value of its subject and the truthfulness of 
Its details, to authentic history, and by its vivid descriptions, and exciting incidents to the moiw 
varied province of Romance." — Albany Atlas. 

" Loses nothing of its interest oy the late discoveries, &c., beyond the Rocky Mountains."— 
Recorder. 

" One of Irving's most valuable works. • • • gtju fresh, instructive and entertaining."— 
Holden's Magazine. 



A Tour on the Prairies; 

With Abbottsford and Newstead Abbey. 
BY WASHINGTON IRVING. 

12mo. $1 25. 

*' Its perusal leaves a positive sense of refreshment, which we should think would make Oi 
book invaluable to the thousands of mortals whose lives are boimd up with ledgers and cash bC'Okft " 
Tribune. 
Delightful reading for a leisture hour." — Albany Atlas. 



Adventwres of Capt. JBonneville^ IT. S. A.^ 

In the Rocky Mountains and the Far West. 
BY WASHINGTON IRVING. 

12nio, with a valuable Map. $1 25. 
•*FuIl ol wild and exciting incidents of frontier and savage life."— Providence Jounuu. 

8 



G. P. Putnam's iraw publications. 



CONTINUED. 

Italy ; Past and Present : 

Or General Views of its History, Religion, Politics, Literature and Art. 

BY L. MARIOTTI, 

Prof, of Italian Literature in London University. 

2 vols., 8vo, cloth, $3 50. 



The Letters a/nd Speeches of Oliver Cromwell^ 

With Elucidations. 

BY THOS. CARLYLE. 

The Fine Edition, in 2 vols.. Octavo, with Portrait. Reduced to $2 50. 



JBm'fow's Autohiograpliy. — Ixn/vengro : 



BY GEORGE BORROW, 

Author of " The Gipsies of Spain," " The Bible in Spain," t;c. 

To be published simultaneously by John Murray, London, and G. P. 
Putnam, New- York. In one volume, 12mo. 

* * This will be a work of intense interest, including extraordinary adventures in various pard 
»f the world. 



tfd'instorCs Unwersal Atlas. 

This splendid and important work — by far the most comprehensive, correct 
and useful Atlas now extant, was published recently in Edinburgh at the 
price of eight guineas, and the price in this country has been about $50. 
G. P. Putnam has made arrangements for an edition for the United States, 
rendered far more valuable by the addition of a COPIOUS and USEFUL 
INDEX of about 40,000 names ; but the maps being transferred in fac- 
simile on stone, the American publisher is enabled to supply it at the 
low price of $20 — elegantly and substantially bound in half morocco, 
gilt edges. The maps are clearly and beautifully executed, and are 
practically fully equal to the original edition. The work contains 41 
large and splendid maps. 

' Having examined many of the Maps of the National Atlas, 1 have no hesitation in saying, 
diat they are as accurate in their geographical details as dwy are beautiful in their execution." — 
Sir David Brewster. 



Historical Studies. 

BY GEORGE WASHINGTON GREENE, ESQ., 

Late Consul of the U. S. at Rome. 1 vol. 12mo, cloth. 



The World'' s Progress ; 



Or, A Record of Remarkable Occurrences, Political, Literary, and Scientific, in the Annal» 
of all Nations. In two Divisions. I. Contemporary Tables. 11. Alphabetical Records. 
BY G. P. PUTNAM. 
N«w editimi, revised and enlarged. 1 t«1. 8vo. 

11 



G. P. PUTISTAM S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 

THE LIBEETY OF EOME; 

A HISTORY. 

With an Historical account of the Liberty of ancient Nations. 

BY SAMUEL ELIOT, ESQ. 

2 vols. 8vo, cloth, and illustrated with 12 Plates. $4 50. 
LIST OF PLATES. 



1 Allegorical. 

2. Homer singing on the Chian strand. 

3. Bust of Socrates. 

4. Imaginary View of Early Rome. 

5. Bust of Pythagoras. 

6. The Secession of the People to Mons 

Sacer. 



7. The meeting of Camillus and Mar. 

lius after the retreat of the Gaul3. 

8. Bust of Marcus Tullius Cicero. 

9. The Triumph of Quintus Fabius. 

10. Caius Gracchus weeping before hia 

Father's Statue. 

11. Cicero denouncing Catiline. 



12. Bust of Lucius Junius Brutus. 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

" Mr. Eliot's aim is an important one It is to indicate the kind and amount of liberty enjoyed 
By the ancient Romans. He has formed a just conceptiou of what is meant by tlie word liberty, 
which is too often confounded with mere forms of government, at best but its guards and supports. 
* * * Tlie scale of the work is so extensive, that details necessarily disappear in any 
abridged statement of its contents, nor is it possible by extracts to convey an idea of the valne and 
interest of the book. To be appreciated it must be taken as a whole. There are few salient pas- 
f.--ges. But its general impression is in the highest degree healthy, conducive to the expansion of the 
mind, and calculated to enrich it with new and important ideas. We are glad to receive from an 
American hand such a welcome contribution to our best order of Literature." — London Examiner. 

"A work of high cliaracter and distinguished merit. The author has brought to the performance 
of a task of such magnitude and difficulty, vast stores of erudition, a highly cultivated taste, a com- 
prehensive and penetrating intellect, and a grave and sober judgment ; qualities indispensable to one 
who would write such a history, and rarely to be found combined to the same extent in the same 
ndividual." — John Bull. 

" We have had histories of Rome written by the scholar, by the credulous, and lately a history 
of it by the great historic skeptic, Niebuhr We had not yet one by a pliilosojjher ; we thank Mr. 
Eliot for having undertaken, and we may add, succeeded 'a his task. This is a good and new bcto^ 
to the classic student and thinker.'' — Daily J^ews. 

" This remarkable book presents us with a view of liberty, in a different and truer light than has 
been laid before us by any writer. Extensive reading, a well balanced and philosophical mind, 
above all prejudice, could alone have fitted its author for producing a work which must take a high 
rank in American Literature, in its style as well as in its subject." — Providence Journal. 

" The present volumes exhibit the evidence of many qualities essential to so large aa enterprise in 
their accomplished author. They are in the highest degree creditable to the conscientious fidelity of 
his researches, to his industry and power of persistent labor, to his acquaintance with the most au- 
thentic soiSces of ancient and modern learning, and to the extent and variety of his erudition, which 
b free from any tincture of pedantry or ostentation. — J^ «- York Tribune. 

12 



G. P. Putnam's new publications. 
Tl}j€ Genius of Italy ; 

Being Sketches of Italian Life, Literature, and Religion. 

BY REV. ROBERT TURNBULL, 

Author of "■The Genius of Scotland." 
Third edition. 1 vol. 12mo, $1 ; illustrated edition, cloth, gilt, $2 

The edition witli extra illustrations, handsomely bound, will be ready in the autumn. 

"Mr. Turiibull gives us the orange groves, and the Ibuntains, and the gondolas, ar^^ .he fres^oe* 

dthe ruins, with touches of personal adventure, and sketche." of biography, and glimpses of th« 
life, literature, and religion of Modern Italy, seen with the quick, comprehensive glances of an 
American traveller, impulsive, inquisitive, and enthusiastic. His book is a pleasant record of a 
tourist's impressions, without the infliction of the tiresome minutiae of his everyday experience." 
— Literary World. 

" At a moment when Italy is about to be regenerated — when the long-slumbering spirit ot th« 
people is about assuming its ancient vigor, a work of this kind is desirable. • • * The country, 
lie people, and prominent features are given with inuch truth and force." — Democratic Review. 



Vietvs A-Foot / 

Or, Europe seen with Knapsack and StafT. 
BY BAYARD TAYLOR. 

New edition, with an additional Chapter of Practical Liformation for Pedes- 
trians in Europe, and a Sketch of the Author in Pedestrian Costume, fronc 
a Drawing by T. Buchanan Read. 12mo., cloth, $1 25. 

The same, fancy cloth, gilt extra, ,^1 75. 

"There is a freshness and force in the book altogether unusual in a book of travels. ' * 
As a textbook for travellers the work is esseinially valuable ; it tells how much can be accom- 
plished with very limited means, when energy, curiosity, and a love of adventure are the promp- 
ters; sympathy in l;is success likewise, is aiibthei- source of interest to the book. • • • The 
result of all this is, a widespieail popularity as a writer, a very handsomely printed book, with a 
very handsoine portrait of the author, and we congratulate him upon tlie attainment of this and 
future lionois." — Union Magazine. 



The Spaniards, and their Country. 

BY RICHARD FORD. 

l2mo, green cloth. $1 00. 

"The best English book, beyond comparison, that ever has appeared for the illustration, not 
merely of the general topography and local curiosities, but of the national character and manneis 
itf Spain. " — Quarterly Review. 

"This is a very clever and amusing work." — Louisville Exam. 

"Th», style is light, dashing, and agreeable."— M Y. Mirror. 

*.' Washington Irving commends this as the best modern popular accotmt of Spain. 



Scenes and Thoughts in Thir&pe. 

BY AN AMERICAN. 

(Geo. H. Calvert, Esq., Baltimore.) 12mo. 50 cts. 

" This book is a delightful instance of the transforming and recreative power of the mmd upon 
every ih:.'" 'I touches. The most hackneyed ground ol Europe, persons and objects that have 
been the tlienie .";r the last half dozen years of every literary remittance from abroad, appear to 
us clothed with new cuarms and meanings, tiecause examined with a finer penetration than they 
nare been by anv other English ar American traveller."— Trafiune. 

9 



G. P. Putnam's new ptjelicateons. 

The Life mid Voyages of OhristopJwi' Oohmthus, 

To which are added those of his Companions, 
BY WASHINGTON IRVING. 

New Edition, Revised and Corrected. Maps, Plates, and copious Index. 
3 vols. 12mo, green cloth uniform with the new edition of Irving'8 
Works, $4; half calf, $6; half morocco, top edge gilt, $6 75 ; full calf, 
gilt, $7 50. The Octavo Edition, in 3 vols., on superfine paper, uniform 
with Prescott's Ferdinand and Isabella, ^6 ; half calf, $8 50 ; full 
ca.f, $10. ^ 

" One of the most fascinating and intensely interesting books m the whole compass of English 
Literature. * ' ' It has all the interest conferred by the truth of history, and at the same time 
Ihe varied excitement of a well written romance." — Western Continent. 
" Perhaps the most truly valuable of the Author's writings." — Home Journal. 
" The History of Columbus is admirably executed ; and though a true and faithful history, it la 
ts interesting as a high wrought romance." 



The Conquest of Florida. 

BY THEODORE IRVING. 

Prof, of History and Belles Letters in the Free Academy. 

New and Revised Edition, Corrected, with Notes, and Illustrations from 
various recent sources. l2mo. 



The Monwments of Oent/ral and Western America; 

With Comparative Notices of those in Egypt, India, Assyria, &c. 

BY REV. F. L. HAWKS, D. D., LL. D. 

1 vol. 8vo. 

This work is now in preparation, uniform with " Nineveh," and the " Monuments of Egypt." 
It will comprise a comprehensive, readable, and popular view of the whole subject of Ancient I* 
maiBS on the American continent— with ample Liustrations. 



The Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley, 

Comprising the Results of Extensive Original Surveys and Explorations. 

BY E. G. SQUIER, A. M., AND E. H. DAVIS, M. D. 

With numerous Illustrations. Royal 4to, $10. 



Ten Yea/i'S of American History : 

1840-49 — including a History of the Mexican War and of California. 
BY EMMA WILLARD. 
With a valuable Map. 12mo, $1. 
10 



G. P. PUTNAMS NEW PUBLICATIONS. 



T7i6 Genius of Italy / 

Being Sketches of Italian Life, Literature, and Religion. 
BY REV. ROBERT TURNBULL, 

Author of " The Genius of Scotland." 
Third edition. 1 vol. 12nio, $1 ; illustrated edition, cloth, gill, $2. 

The edition with extra illustrations, handsomely bound, will be ready in the autumn. 

" Mr. Turnbull gives us the orange groves, and the fountains, and the gondolas, ano .lie frescoes 
and the ruins, with touches of personal adventure, and sketches of biography, and glimpses of th« 
life, literature, and religion ol Modern Italy, seen with the quick, comprehensive glances of an 
American traveller, impulsive, inquisitive, and enthusiastic. His book is a pleasant record of a 
tourist's impressions, without the iiifliction of tho tiresome minutiae of his everyday experience." 
— Literary World. 

" At a moment when Italy is about to be regenerated — when the long-slumbering spirit of tha 
people is about assuming its ancient vigor, a work of this kind is desirable. • ' " The country, 
Its people, and prominent features are given with much truth and force." — Democratic Review. 



Views A-Foot ; 

Or, Europe seen with Knapsack and Staff. 
BY BAYARD TAYLOR. 

New edition, with an additional Chapter of Practical Information for Pedes- 
trians in Europe, and a Sketch of the Author in Pedestrian Costume, from 
a Drawing by T. Buchanan Read. 12mo., cloth, $1 25. 

The same, fancy cloth, gilt extra, $1 75. 

'■ There is a freshness and force in the book altogether unusual in a book of travels. • • • 
As a text-book for travellers the work is essentially valuable ; it tells how much can be accom- 
plished with very limited means, when energy, curiosity, and a love of adventure are the promp- 
ters ; sympathy in his success likewise, is another source of interest to the book. « « • fhe 
result of all this is, a wide-spread popularity as a writer, a very handsomely printed book, with a 
very handsome portrait of the author, and we congratulate him upon the attainment of this and 
future honors." — Union Magazine. 



The Spania/rds^ and tlieir Coimi/t^y. 

BY RICHARD FORD. 

12mo, green cloth. $1 00. 

" The best English book, beyond comparison, that ever has appeared for the illustration, not 
merely of the general topography and local curiosities, but of the national character and manners 
itf Spain." — Quarterly Review. 

"This is a very clever and amusing work." — Louisville Exam. 

"The style is light, dashing, and agreeable." — N. Y. Mirror. 

',' Washington Irving commends this as the best modern popular account of Spain. 



Scenes and ThougJits in Europe. 

BY AN AMERICAN. 

(Geo. H. Calvert, Esq., Baltimore.) l2mo. 50 cts. 

•' This book is a delightful instance of the transforming and recreative power of the mind upon 
Bvery ihij" n touches. The most hackneyed ground of Europe, persons and objects that have 
been the tlieme /;y the last half dozen years of every literary remittance from abroad, appear to 
us clothed with new cnarms and meanuigs, because examined with a iiner penetration than they 
oave been by anv other English or American traveller."— T'riiMne. 

9 



G. P. PUTNAM'S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 

Tlie Life mid Voyages of Gliristo]fher Cohimbus. 

To which are added those of his Companions. 
BY WASHINGTON IRVING. 

New Edition, Revised and Corrected. Maps, Plates, and copious Index. 
3 vols. l2mo, green cloth uniform with the new edition of Irving'!} 
Works, ^4; half calf, $6; half morocco, top edge gilt, f6 75 ; full calf, 
gilt, $7 50. The Octavo Edition, in 3 vols., on superfine paper, uniform 
with Prescott's Ferdinand and Isabella, $6; half calf, ^8 50; full 
calf, SIO' 
" One of the most fascinating and intensely interesting books m the whole compass of English 
Literature. ' * ' It has all the interest conferred hy the truth of history, and at the same time 
Ihe varied excitement of a well written romance."— Wss^era Continent. 
" Perhaps the most truly valuable of the Author's writings." — Home Journal. 
" The History of Columbus is admirably executed ; and though a true and faithful history, it is 
as interesting as a liigh wrought romance." 



The Conquest of Florida. 

BY THEODORE IRVING. 

Prof, of History and Belles Letters in the Free Academy. 

New and Revised Edition, Corrected, with Notes, and Illustrations from 
various recent sources. 12mo. 



The Monwments of GenPral and Western America; 

With Comparative Notices of those in Egypt, India, Assyria, &c. 
BY REV. F. L. HAWKS, D. D., LL. D. 

1 vol. 8vo. 

This work is now in preparation, uniform with " Nineveh," and the " Monuments of Egypt." 
It will comprise a comprehensive, readable, and popular view of the whole subject of Ancient r* 
maiss on the American continent— with ample Illustrations. 



The Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley. 

Comprising the Results of Extensive Original Surveys and Explorations. 
BY E. G. SQUIER, A. M., AND E. H. DAVIS, M. D. 

With numerous Illustrations. Royal 4to, $10. 



Ten Yea/rs of American History : 

1840-49 — including a History of the Mexican War and of California. 
BY EMMA WILLARD. 

With a valuable Map. 12mo, $1. 
10 



G. P. Putnam's new publications. 



CONTINUED. 

Ital/y ; Past and Present : 

Or General Views of its History, Religion, Politics, Literature and Art. 

BY L. MARIOTTI, 

Prof, of Italian Literature in London University. 

2 vols., 8vo, cloth, $3 50. 



TJie Letters a/nd Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, 

With Elucidations. 

BY THOS. CARLYLE. 

The Fine Edition, in 2 vols,. Octavo, with Portrait. Reduced to $2 50. 



Boi'row's Autobiography. — iMvengro : 

BY GEORGE BORROW, 

Author of " The Gipsies of Spain," " The Bible in Spain," t;c. 

To be published simultaneously by John Murray, London, and G. P. 

Putnam, New-York. In one volume, l2mo. 

* * This will be a work of intense interest, including extraordinary adventures in various parta 
of the world. 



Jo\nstoipiJs Universal Atlas. 

This splendid and important work — by far the most comprehensive, correct 
and useful Atlas now extant, was published recently in Edinburgh at the 
price of eight guineas, and the price in this country has been about $50. 
G. P. Putnam has made arrangements for an edition for the United States, 
rendered far more valuable by the addition of a COPIOUS and USEFUL 
INDEX of about 40,000 names ; but the maps being transferred in fac- 
simile on stone, the American publisher is enabled to supply it at the 
low price of $20 — elegantly and substantially bound in half morocco, 
gilt edges. The maps are clearly and beautifully executed, and are 
practically fidly equal to the original edition. The work contains 41 
large and splendid maps. 

/laving examined many of the Maps of the National Atlas, 1 have no hesitation in saying, 
th«t they are as accurate in their geographical details as they are beautiful in their execution." — 
Sir David Brewster. 



Historical Studies. 

BY GEORGE WASHINGTON GREENE, ESQ., 

Late Consul of the U. S. at Roine. 1 vol. l2mo, cloth. 



The World^s Progress ; 



Or, A Record of Remarkable Occurrences, Political, Literary, and Scientific, m the Annals 
of all Nations. In two Divisions. I. Contemporary Tables. II. Alphabetical Records. 

BY G. P. PUTNAM. 

New edition, revised and enlarged. 1 v»l, 8vo. 

11 



THE LIBERTY OF ROME; 

A HISTORY. 

With an Historical account of the Liberty of ancient Nations, 

BY SAMUEL ELIOT, ESQ. 

2 vols. 8vo, cloth, and illustrated with 12 Plates. ^4 50. 
LIST OF PLATES. 



1. Allegorical. 

2. Homer singing on the Chian strand. 

3. Bust of Socrates. 

4. Imaginary View of Early Rome. 

5. Bust of Pythagoras. 

6. The Secession of the People to Mons 

Sacer. 



7. The meeting of Camillus and Man- 

lius after the retreat of the Gaub. 

8. Bust of Marcus TuUius Cicero. 

9. The Triumph of Quintus Fabius. 

10. Caius Gracchus weeping before his 

Father's Statue. 

11. Cicero denouncing Catiline. 



12. Bust of Lucius Junius Brutus. 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

" Mr. Eliot's aim is an important one. It is to indicate the kind and amount of liberty enjoyed 
by the ancient Romans. He has formed a just conception of what is meant by the word liberty, 
which is too often confounded with mere forms of government, at best but its guards and supports. 
* * * The scale of the work is so extensive, that details necessarily disappear in any 
abridged statement of its contents, nor is it possible by extracts to convey an idea of the value and 
interest of the book. To be appreciated It must be taken as a whole. There are few salient pas- 
sages. But its general impression is in the highest degree healthy, conducive to the expansion of the 
mind, and calculated to enrich it with new and important ideas. We are glad to receive from an 
American hand such a welcome contribution to our best order of Literature." — London Examiner. 

"A work of high character and distinguished merit. Tlie author has brought to the performance 
of a task of such magnitude and difficulty, vast stores of erudition, a highly cultivated taste, a com- 
prehensive and penetrating intellect, and a grave and sober judgment ; qualities indispensable to one 
who would write such a history, and rarely to be found combined to the same extent in the same 
ndividual." — John Bull. 

" We have had histories of Rome written by the scholar, by tlie credulous, and lately a history 
of it by the great historic skeptic, Niebuhr. We had not yet one by a philosopher ; we thank Mr. 
Eliot for having undertaken, and we may add, succeedec* in his task. This is a good and new bo(jk 
to the classic student and thinker.'' — Daily JVews. 

" This remarkable book presents us with a view of litierts in a different and truer light than has 
been laid before us by any writer. Extensive reading, a well balanced and philosophical mind, 
above all prejudice, could alone have fitted its author for producing a work which must take a high 
rank in American Literature, in its style as well^ in its subject." — Providence Journal. 

" The present volumes exhibit the evidence of many qualities essentia! to so large an enterprise in 
their accomplished author. They are in the highest degree creditable to the conscientious fidelity of 
his researches, to his industry and power of persistent labor, to his acquaintance with the most au- 
thentic sources of ancient and modern learning, and to the extent and variety of his erudition, which 
is free from any tincture of pedantry or ostentation. — j*" u- York Tribune. 

12 



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